Green
by Imyoshi
Summary: Miracles had a nasty habit of happening when all hope seemed lost. Belief allowed for the bleakest of moments to become something truly beautiful. Lament summoned Folly in the face of danger. And together they created the Semblance of Hope that bestowed Jaune Arc the strength to protect those that mattered with his sword Durandal and shield Forlorn.
1. Green

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of RWBY.

* * *

 **Green**

 **By: Imyoshi**

A new cry filtered through the maternity ward from the sound of a new child being born, a child happily dubbed Jaune Arc.

Said parents of the newborn, and four sisters, were happy for the newest addition of the family, none more than Ignatius Arc, for he finally had a son to carry on the family name. That's not to say that he didn't love his daughters, of course he did, but any man would need more masculinity when dealing with five females. It's only common knowledge.

"He's so tiny!" chimed one of Jaune's older sisters, hanging over the bed edge to get a better look of her new baby brother. Julian smiled tiredly and held out Jaune for his sisters to see. "Can I hold him?"

Her mother laughed, patting her daughter on the head. "Not right now. He's tired. Maybe after we take him home. For now he needs his rest. He's had a big day."

Ignatius laughed, hovering over the other side of the bed. "Him and you both! It looks like you're about to pass out any second."

"Ha-ha..." Julian mocked, holding little Jaune tight. "Next time you should try giving birth, then you can make all the jokes you want."

Ignatius looked away, scratching the side of his cheek with a nonchalant, nervous expression. "But you're so good at it. I'll just leave it up to you."

Outside the happy family moment, a few doctors clustered around the door, talking amongst themselves as they filed around little Jaune's blood analysis. Looks of dread and concerned filtered in the hall. When Jaune Arc came into the world, the doctors appeared worried, contrasting the happy smiles parading around Julian Arc's hospital bed. Without as much as a second guess, they could tell this child would grow up to be frail—to be faltered—to be weak. The small child's skin complexion was unnaturally pale, with a very, _very_ thin body and labored breathing.

The child itself wasn't in any physical danger, but that didn't mean trouble wasn't brewing forward. If anything, life's only going to get harder. Arcs were warriors. However, Jaune Arc was not, and he never would be, not with a body as frail and challenging as his own. The life of a Huntsman?

A cruel joke.

Coughing into his hand, a random doctor moved inside and gently clasped Ignatius by the shoulder, breaking the happy moment with cold hard facts and bad news. "If I could have a word, Mr. Arc. It's gravely important for your son's future."

Ignatius dropped his smile, going from warm to cold in the blink of an eye. Julian's oblivious to the sudden change of tone, cooing at her baby boy, making sure Jaune's sisters got a chance to say _hello_ to their new baby brother. Perhaps that's for the better. Judging the doctor's deep frown, whatever news he had was bad. Better to let his wife keep her smile now, if only for a little bit longer.

"Sure..." Following the doctor outside the hall, Ignatius swallowed a lump of emotion, waiting for the inevitable as the doc took off his glasses. "Well? What is it, Doctor Yean? Is something wrong with my son?"

Yean sighed, rubbing his glasses on the clean side of his medical coat. "Health wise, no. Your son's healthy as a horse, but physically speaking, there's a problem we need to discuss now." Putting his glasses back on, Yean grumbled. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your son has a weak body."

"... A weak body?"

"Yes..." Yean trailed, pushing the medical folders into Ignatius's scared arms. "The results came back after we did some quick blood work; your son suffers from a severe case of Muscle Weakness. Turns out his body can't deliver enough protein to sustain adequate muscles suited for regular labor. Everyday tasks such as even walking will be a challenge for the young Arc."

Ignatius took a step back, almost losing his balance. He managed to hold himself up by grabbing the handle of the door, but that's a hollow victory compared to the grand scheme of things. Now _his_ muscles felt weak, jelly like. Not a common picture that the older Arc found himself normally in.

"There has to be a mistake. Please, tell me it's a mistake. Tell me there's something you can do!" The father crushed up the medical chart, holding back heartbreaking emotions the best he could. It's a losing battle. "Please... please give me something to hold onto. Give me some hope."

Doctor Yean shook his head. "I can't. There's no hope for your son. I recommend you don't try to push being a Huntsman into his head, because it's a hopeless future."

Ignatius crumbled the paper in his hands, not wanting to believe a word the doctor said. He peered over to his wife, through the glass window, smiling wistfully at his newborn soon. Jaune looked so perfect. So innocent. So normal. There just had to be a mistake! Couldn't be his son, child of Ignatius and Julian Arc, born with a weak body and impossible future? Preposterous—couldn't be true—not his boy.

Not his boy.

Clutching the handle, Ignatius hardly noticed the doctor walking away, his mind off in a distant horizon. All the dreams he had for his newborn soon seemed to be evaporating in a cloud of disappointment. How an Arc could be born with a weak body, he did not know. Some part of his conscious refused to believe such a bold lie, the other just didn't want to acknowledge the ghastly truth of the situation. Who would? Certainly not him nor his precious wife.

Building up some false courage, the man sighed terribly and walked back into the medical room, holding his heart in place. His wife greeted him with a warm smile, but it didn't last too long, not with the way his pained smile refused to reach his eyes. She's immediately _shooing_ the girls out, fooling them with an earnest and exhausted smile of her own.

"Girls... why don't you go outside for a minute, I have to speak to your father, and little Jaune here must be tired." They whined, but Julian shushed them. "Go on. I'm tired, too."

Awing to themselves, they left, but not before giving their mother a quick hug, passing by their father with innocent smiles and happy thoughts, none of which could he partake in. The soft _click_ of the door erased the easiness of everything, filling the room with some untold dread that Julian pretended not to notice. It almost worked, but her husband cut the air like Crocea Mors through a Grimm.

"I just had a word with the doctor; Jaune's medical test came back..." Ignatius coughed, walking over to his new soon. "They weren't good."

Julian held back a gasp. "W-What do you mean, not good? What's not good? What's wrong with our baby boy?"

Ignatius laughed, hollow and misplaced, lacking warmth. "His body, that's what's wrong. Turns out Jaune here was born with a muscle deficiency. He's weak, Julian. Terribly, terribly weak. He'll never have a normal life. Our child has been cursed with a weak body."

She remained silent for a moment, allowing the words to truly sink in. Then she's shaking her head, tucking back the small strands of blond hair on Jaune's head, refusing to believe such a notion, such a misguided lie.

"No... No. Our little Jaune's fine. He just needs time to grow." Ignatius tried to consolidate Julian, reaching out to grab her shoulder. She nudged his hand away. "No! Jaune's going to be fine! There's nothing wrong with our baby boy." Tears. "There's nothing wrong."

Ignatius glared, weak and tired, but he still glared. "Julian, please. Try to hear what I'm saying. Jaune's future... it's not a hopeless one, but a challenging one. We'll make sure to help him achieve his dream, whatever that may be."

Julian looked away. "And if he wants to be a Huntsman, what then, tell me. I need you to tell me. I need to know, Ignatius."

Ruffling up Jaune's hair, he sighed. "Then we'll tell him the truth. We'll tell him it's a hopeless dream."

Julian didn't like that answer. She didn't like it at all. Not one bit. "I can't accept that. I don't want our son's future to be limited. He deserves an equal chance, just like everyone else. No one should have their future taken away from them."

Her husband backed away, rubbing his neck in defeat. "What else can we do? There's nothing. Nothing! It's useless, _hopeless_."

"No. It's never hopeless. You know that and I know that. There's always something that can be done." She smiled, tears bitter. " _You know that_. I know you know that. You just got to believe. You just got to have _hope_."

Ignatius did a tiny laugh, "Then what? What do you propose? Where's this _hope_ you speak of? Show me, Julian. Please, for the love of Monty, show me."

Ruffling up Jaune's head, she showed love to her baby boy. "Aura. We can unlock his Aura. He'll grow with it, growing stronger."

Ignatius couldn't hold back his skepticism. "Aura? He's only just been born less than an hour ago. Who knows what unlocking his Aura now can do?"

"... I don't know what else we can do."

Stunned, the older Arc remained silent, allowing the soft hum of machinery to be his anchor. He walked around the room, holding the medical papers in his hand in both acceptance and defiance. Every step echoed louder than the previous, and soon he's crushing the papers up in his hand, bending the parchment with his fingers. Then Ignatius threw it into the nearby trashcan, pressing the matter away from his mind, not wanting to allow his only son a limited future in a peace forsaken world. Any help was a good advantage.

Walking over to the hospital bed, he sighed. Father Time seemed to have hit Ignatius with a stick, because the older Arc looked like he aged ten years in a second, but even still, a calm smile harbored between his eyes. One full of hope and promise, a promise he wasn't sure he could uphold, but he'd try his damn hardest, anyways.

Reaching out with a shaky palm, Ignatius glared determinedly at his hour old son, unable to find the strength to remain calm. "I'm putting all my _hope_ into this—into my son."

His wife grabbed his shaking hand, smiling softly along her perfect husband. His hand stopped shaking. "Me too."

Losing the glare, the older Arc smiled wistfully, now all they could do was hope for the best. "For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee."

A green Aura filled the room; it covered the little Arc with pleasant warmth that blanketed the little guy, away from the harsh colds of the world outside. Both the older Arcs felt tired and weak, drained of their Aura. Soon the light faded away, acting as nothing had happened, but the parents knew.

Now it was all up to Jaune himself, and a little luck, to make their hopes come true.

...

A few years passed and Jaune barely learned to walk when he turned four. His parents had passed off the weird incident as nothing special, figuring their little boy took longer than other children. It wasn't anything to be ashamed of. All children were different in their own special way. Even if the smile didn't quite reach their eyes, their encouragement did, and at the time, that's all the little Arc needed in order to run.

So when Jaune managed to run into his mother's arms, she crushed him in a hug of joy, never noticing how out-of-breath her son truly was, or the fact he only ran one more time that day compared to children with boundless amounts of energy. Jaune didn't have any of that. He was a child who lacked an imagination, constrained to wondering why his older sisters could run and why he could not.

His first words came out when he was five. Surprisingly enough, his first words had to do with his father. It wasn't mom or dad, however, it was hero. He looked up to his old man as the hero in the story, which brought nothing but joy to his father. None of them cared that it took Jaune a long-long time to speak, as his vocal cords suffered, too, from weakness from within the larynx. This of course led Jaune to speaking softly with a breathy voice, one that suited the pale-skinned Arc quite well.

At times, his family had trouble hearing him. At other times, he had trouble hearing himself. Eventually, the softness took his toll and Jaune learned to speak less and less, answering in short one to two-worded answers that still left him breathless at times. Yet, he didn't give up hope. He never did. Jaune woke up every morning with a dream, a dream to be just like his hero.

He learned to start being scared of everything when he turned six, where every little thing that proved to be a challenge growing up, was still challenging years later, like running or simply breathing at times. The world quickly became a scary place. Why was everything so hard? How come nothing got easier? These were the things he asked his parents. They never did answer his questions the way he wanted them to, supplying the little Arc with distractions and misguided answers that might've worked on a child bound full of imagination.

Too bad for his parents, Jaune stopped imagining things a long time ago. He wanted answers, real ones. Not sugarcoated responses that would leave any other child satisfied and unwinding. Jaune wanted to know why he couldn't run with the other children, or why mothers always seemed to keep their children away from him as if he was some sort of monster.

Seven and eight turned out to be an eye-opening experience for Jaune when he started school, two years behind all the other kids. He didn't understand why he started so late. Apparently, it had something to do with being special as the other teachers had put it occasionally when he bothered to ask. It made sense and then didn't when he thought about it. His parents always tried to teach Jaune at home, filling his head with the basics a child needed to know with the years he missed or skipped. None of which made complete sense to the young Arc, but it did allow Jaune to see the world in a totally different light.

Now Jaune Arc could see all the children running around, playing and laughing, doing activities his body could never _hope_ to achieve. They had muscles, he had none. He could see baby fat in their cheeks, he lacked such a thing. They could speak a hundred words a minute, he's lucky enough to just get two sentences out without being exhausted. None of it made any sense to him.

Turning nine slowed down Jaune's world when his younger sisters proved to possess more physical strength and stamina than he. They outpaced him and excluded him from games and activities. The older ones never wanted to talk to him, and the younger ones were just that, children without a care in the world. He couldn't consolidate any of his troubles to anyone but his parents, yet they kept dodging his questions, laughing off any awkward questions no child should say, pretending the pained expression in Jaune's skeleton-like cheek bones wasn't there.

Then one day Jaune Arc took a long hard look in the bathroom mirror, silently comparing himself to the other kids he'd seen running around. Not only did he lack fat, but his hair was pale yellow, a sharp contrast to his parents and sisters. He had bags under his eyes and his pale skin was more noticeable than ever. Jaune finally realized that he always looked sick.

And he learned to stop dreaming when he turned ten, when his entire world came crashing down one quiet Saturday afternoon. When he learned the reason all the other kids at school whispered things behind his back, things about him, like why was he so skinny or pale. He had demanded on his birthday for the reason behind his weakness and different appearance and wanted nothing else.

They were reluctant. He knew that. He would be lying if he said he didn't see that coming. Luckily, they finally revealed to him the truth of his shortcomings. They revealed everything, unable to hide his forlorn secret anymore. And on Jaune Arc's tenth birthday, he started to lose hope of any type of normal life.

The years continued to pass until he reached the age of sixteen, where he graduated school with no real plans set in stone. How could he? He wanted to be like his hero—like his dad—the Huntsman who killed the monsters lurking in the shadows. Hope had long since abandoned him when he turned sixteen. By then he'd learned to accept the truth of his body.

The years haven't been too kind to his body. Forget about muscles, Jaune's body had an absence of everything a healthy, capable fighter needed. And the worst part about it— _the worst part_ —was that he had no control over such an issue, even with Aura holding him partially up. Now that he knew about his Aura, it did help when he learned to tap into it—sadly enough, he hardly contained any, halting his progress to an almost standstill path.

Jaune Arc never dreamed of attending a Huntsmen school or becoming one, at least not anymore. Perhaps, when he was younger and more optimistic, he had, but he'd long since given up hope on such a dream. With the whole world screaming _no_ at him, what's an Arc supposed to do? Dream? Hope? What did it matter when he was cursed with such a weak body?

Sure, his old folks tried their hardest to protect him, to give him an honest to Monty fighting chance, but it all proved in vain in the end. Funny enough, they still haven't given up hope that he'd be happy one day. Humorous, because he'd long given up hope for such a thing.

Jaune just couldn't find the strength to get up with the world constantly pushing him back down, yelling _no_ over and over again to an already beaten child.

...

During his seventeenth birthday, Jaune's found himself traveling into his hometown, looking around for a personal gift to get for himself. Aura had allowed him to control his breathing, granting him the ability to talk normally, but that's pretty much the limits of said power. Nothing else had came from it, beating down any hope he'd gathered over the life of childhood.

At his current age his hair's frail, a pale blond with hardly any root support. The skeleton-like appearance in his cheek bones were still there, more prominent than ever. He's skinny, far too skinny for a boy his age. The blue in his eyes lacked emotion, long since killed away. Rarely did the older Arc smile. His pale skin suffered sun damage, an unfortunate side effect of his blood unable to support his body entirely. The teen couldn't even walk long distances without tiring himself out. A burden he called his own life.

How unfair of Monty to grant him such an existence.

All his life his parents were afraid _for_ him. Never _at_ him. Now he saw that. By the time he turned ten, Jaune had gotten sick of their stares and begged anyone to teach him to control his Aura. Eventually, someone did, but the act hardly did anything to his already hopeless body. The Aura proved weak. It might as well not be there. He was useless through and through. And nothing could reflect away the unwanted stares he got whenever he decided to venture into town. Everyone in town knew him as the hopeless boy without a promising future.

Jaune just wanted to live a normal life. One where he could smile and laugh without care, a life worth living, worth waking up to. Was that too much to ask—too much to hope for? Was Monty cruel enough to rob him of all possible futures? Could he have really been born under such an unlucky star?

No one ever truly believed in him, except his folks. Not his sisters. And not even him. There was a time when that simply hadn't been the case, however, that time had long since passed. Now he's more often than naught the targets of talks and finger pointing. He's not the village fool by any means. Jaune Arc's simply _that_ boy.

Coldly enough, this was the time of year where teenagers, such as himself, apply for Huntsmen schools, like Beacon Academy. Jaune withheld no such qualms. Knowing such a life would mean certain Death for the Arc within hours of his first mission, if he even made it that far. No. It's far better for him to stray from such a path.

No misguided dreams for this Arc.

Venturing into the market part of town, Jaune peered around the stalls for anything remotely interesting to buy. People moved out of his way, taking time out of their day to give him pity glances, all of which he ignored, having had plenty of practice doing so. His pained curiosity searched high and low for a stall to stop at, pockets hidden within his Pumpkin Pete hoodie, one of his prized possession. He liked it because it hid most of his boney body and gave him an impression of definition.

Small victories.

After a few fruitless minutes of searching, his eyes happen to land upon a rusty old sword resting on the sign of some vendor selling weapons and armor. A light smile spread across his face, robbing him of the sad mask he normally wore. Like his imagination coming back with a full-force, so did his enjoyment of weapons. Just because he'd long given up his dream to ever become a Huntsman, didn't mean the Arc hated to pretend. After learning the terrible secret of his body, Jaune had found the will to imagine once more. Ironic, as a small child, he held no such delusion. As an adult, he's full of ambitions that could never be fulfilled.

Someone put him out of his misery now.

Reaching the stall, Jaune slowly grabbed the rusty sword from off the sign, inspecting the aged metal with acute curiosity. The vendor spared a passing glance over to Jaune when he got there, moving the straw tuck between his teeth. A few seconds later, the man straightened up when he took in Jaune's tired appearance, feeling that same sympathy any common folk did when they absorbed in his condition.

Still, he lacked tack. A quality Jaune found perfect. "That piece of junk's called Durandal, kid. Some sword one of my men found in a mountain. The name was carved on the mountain side. Thing's rusted and falling apart! It's scarp. Useless."

"Useless..." Jaune mumbled, unable to meet the street vendor in the eyes. He knew a thing or two about being useless. That word hurt more than anyone should allow. It's also a very _lonely_ word. "I'll take it... how much?"

If the vendor's surprise, he didn't show it. The man waved his arm, breaking eye contact with Jaune. "You really want it, fine. Give me a lien and it's yours. I was just going to throw it away, anyways."

Unable to see his reflection on the corroded metal, Jaune still pretended he could see the weak smile on the lackluster shine of the blade. He slowly fished out a lien, handing it to the vendor with a shaky palm.

"Thanks."

The man paused in taking the cash, making sure to lean over his stand so Jaune could hear. "There's no sheath for that blade, kid. I would tell you to be careful, but that blade's duller than my wife. If you get hurt, tell me. I would love to hear how." Jaune nodded and continued to look over the rest of the merchandise.

Everything's too heavy for him to properly wear. "Do you have anything... lighter?"

The man paused, taking in Jaune's skeleton appearance once more before nodding his head, throwing the poor kid a bone. He leveled down to pull out a few items from the bottom of his stall, throwing the worn out and lighter equipment onto the wooden stall, caring little for damage.

The first thing Jaune picked up was a yellowish helmet-headband that was light and was broken on some parts, making it lack the ability to entirely scale around a person's head. The left portion was completely destroyed, cracks and pieces missing to be a proper piece of armor or headpiece, but maybe that's why the vendor didn't have it for sale in the first place.

The other thing Jaune picked up were some metal gloves with rust all over them that would only reach up to his elbows. They contrasted heavily with his light skin, lackluster in the afternoon sun. These looked better than the headband armor, sadly enough, but were still pretty beat up and useless in the long run. Just another piece of armor the vendor never actually planned on selling from the get go, most likely planning to toss it with the sword after the day was over.

And lastly but not least, there's a circular green shield to add to the pile, broken and dented on some parts, forlorn to hope, just as he. When he picked it up—with one hand nonetheless—Jaune found himself unable to stop the smile from breaking across his face. He should consider himself lucky for finding such a treasure trove of wearable stuff, even if it was trash. But just like his dad always said, one man's trash was another man's treasure. And even if this shield was forlorn to future hope—just like him—he still instantly loved it. So what if they're both forlorn? At least they had each other, like Durandal had.

So he'd call the shield that.

"Forlorn." Putting the three items down, Jaune glared up to the vendor, a small amount of determination and hope lightening up his eyes that normally reserved themselves in the depths of sorrow and darkness. "How much for all of it? I want it all."

The man glared, mentally wondering if he should sell weapons and armors to _this_ kid, even if they're rusted and dull. It almost seemed like he's unknowingly breaking some sort of law by selling weapons and armor to this poor kid. But money's money and it looked like this kid needed a win. He's certainly not going to be the one to deny him that.

"Just give me five liens and it's all yours, kid." Jaune quickly pushed the money into his hand, thanking the man with a one worded thanks before venturing away. The vendor whistled a weak tune. "I wonder what's wrong with him. Looks like a breeze could topple that kid over."

...

Reaching his home's backyard, Jaune dropped the stuff onto the floor, catching his breath from having to carry things uphill. His leg muscles ached, needing a quick minute to breathe. There's a pull in his tendons in his arm, but he bit back the pain, not wanting such things to hold him back on his seventeenth birthday. Tomorrow, he could stay in bed tomorrow. Today, today he's going to pretend and imagine a better life, even if only for a few minutes.

Leaving the stuff on the floor, Jaune walked into his house and came out a minute later; wearing green armor he'd constructed out of leaves, strings, and twigs. It hung on the shoulders of his hoodie, flowing to the passing breeze. It's the only material he could hold up for long periods of time without getting tired, however feasible it really was. To him, it made all the difference.

Picking up the gauntlets, Jaune put them on, biting his lip from the sudden added weight of metal onto his body, but he's holding back relatively well. Next he grabbed the broken headband armor and placed it on top of his head, feeling his hair popping out from the top, obscuring his forehead to the world. Jaune didn't even mind that half of it was missing, happy to wear any type of armor.

Grabbing the sword next, Jaune admired the blade, happy to be able to hold it. He already loved it, unlike Crocea Mors hanging in his family's fireplace; he's able to hold this one up with its utter deficiency of metal, just like him and his muscles.

The sword's nothing like Crocea Mors. It lacked essentially everything. A strong hilt, clean, polished, refined metal, and there's rust _everywhere_. The sword's durable, that's for damn sure. It's _lasted_ for a long time, _endured_ the test of time. How could he not love it? It was like him. But other than that, it's nothing compared to the family heirloom.

Nonetheless, he's majorly impressed. "Hey! You're pretty durable. You've lasted a while, too, huh? It must've been tough lasting out there with the elements all those years? I kinda get where you're coming from." Picking up the shield, Jaune grinned weakly. "Hehe, look at me! Talking to a rusty, old sword! I must be going crazy."

Forcing his body to move, Jaune swung the sword, feeling his muscles begin to ache from the sudden exertion beyond his normal limits. He ignored it. He swung again, doing a quick jump into the air, acting very-like his dad. Each sudden movement pushed him over the edge, sweat began to form on his forehead from the simple actions, and yet he pushed it all away to live out his dream, if only for a few minutes. But all dreams for him eventually came crashing down at some point of another, and his hit its limits when he tripped on the floor, falling down onto the grassy dirt, landing with an audible _thud_.

Frowning, Jaune didn't notice his mother peeking out the window, busy with an angry glare as he got up, bruised and blushing painfully with overexertion. His aching muscles have returned with a full vengeance, holding him down, saying _no_ over and over again as he tried to get up, punishing him for pushing himself beyond his capable limits. It's not until a few minutes later that he managed to pull himself up, completely out-of-breath.

Julian Arc watched as her son got up from the floor, kicking the dirt with a terrible frown the second he did. His shoulders were hunched up, he's twitching, and she just knew he's holding back tears. She desperately wished she could take away the pain forever. Little of what she did now hardly soothed her own baby boy, and it hurt the matriarch of the family.

Walking outside, she pushed the door gently; moving over to her son's stiffed posture. Jaune didn't need to turn around to see his mom approaching him, far use to people walking around eggshells with him. That didn't mean he'd stopped shaking, far from it. He's just so tired of being himself.

It wasn't fair.

Sniffing, Jaune rubbed the _dust_ out of his eyes, using his sleeve. There's a question he'd been meaning to ask his mother for a long time, and he always had better luck getting answers out of his parents when it happened to be his birthday. Why should today be any different?

Breathing in the pain, Jaune remained stoic, dropping both Durandal and the shield onto the floor. He tried not to let the pain get to him. "How can you believe in me when I can't even believe in myself?"

Julian smiled sadly, opening her arms out for her baby boy. "Oh honey. Come here." Jaune walked over and hung his head, face devoid of happiness. She hugged him, impressed at how tall he'd gotten. "I'm always going to believe in you, you know that."

"Why?" he asked so suddenly, shoulders shaking. "I'm hopeless."

Julian pushed her son back, making sure to wipe away the beginning tears. "No. You're not hopeless. I don't want you to ever say that again. Promise me you won't." Jaune didn't say anything. "Jaune, promise me."

Jaune glared away. "I can't. There's no hope for me. It was a miracle I was even born."

Julian shook her head and laughed lightly. "Don't be silly, of course there is. Hope is like... hope is like this power that says yes when everyone else says no. It's the power to believe in miracles, to make miracles happen. It can make miracles even happen twice, if you believe hard enough."

"... I don't know. It doesn't seem to be here for me."

"Jaune, listen to me." Julian urged, turning her son's head _._ "Hope never dies. No matter how much you push it down, it always finds a way to get back up again, stronger than before. It's the power to say yes. It's unbreakable... unbeatable... undeniable... unquestionable..." She picked up the sword on the floor and put it into his hands, filling them with warmth. "As long as even the tiniest of glimmers beats in people's hearts, you can always find a way to do the impossible. Remember... Jaune... Don't ever lose hope." She pushed his hair back. "And don't worry if you do, because you know why? Hope will always manage to find a way to find you. You just got to stop running from it. A miracle _can_ happen more than once."

Jaune tried not to let the words get to him, but his mother somehow found a way to make his chest feel lighter than it did in years. She hugged her son once more, ruffling up his hair for good measure. The easy smile on her face broke through the darkness clouding his mind, being the very light he needed to get out his tunneled thoughts.

"Thanks... mom."

Julian smiled and kissed Jaune on the cheek. "Don't stay out too late, we're cutting the cake and opening presents in a few hours."

Jaune waved as his mother walked back inside. He felt better, but he didn't feel any more hopeful, just different—more open to the idea of miracles. The old saying went that miracles only happen once. To believe they could happen more than once, superstition or not, was just plain crazy. Miracles were just that. A onetime off that saved a person's neck in just the nick of time. And he knew he's not that lucky. No one was. But for his mother's sake, and he did make a promise, Jaune would believe in hope just one more time.

Wiping away the stinging tears building in his eyes, Jaune gripped Durandal with a purpose, swinging the rusty blade in the air with a playful imagination. Even if he could never be like his father, he could still pretend. And for now, that's more than enough. He'd worry about the rest of his life in the upcoming years, but for now, imagining a better life was the best he could ask for. It's the most he could hope for in the gleam thing he called a life.

Experimenting a few more minutes, Jaune found himself out-of-breath yet again, clutching his aching knees tiredly as he breathed in deep, long breaths of air. His lungs felt like they were on fire. His body hurt awfully, and sweat was clinging to his body. Just holding the flimsy weapons and armor was putting an unnecessary strain on his weakened muscles, but he refused to take them off, wanting to prove something to himself.

His attention's then stolen when a white dove landed in his backyard, pecking down on the floor without a care in the world. The little moment shouldn't really surprise the Arc, but it did for some strange reason. Then the moment turned a turn for the weirder when the dove flew over to Jaune's shoulder, acting completely unaffected by Jaune's human presence.

Cautiously, Jaune remained silent and still, not wanting to scare the little guy. He's absolutely interested to the bird that's made his shoulder its new personal stick. Moving a finger forward, Jaune's scared he's going to freak the little guy out. He didn't have any friends. Nobody ever wanted anything to do with the weird kid.

"Hey there little guy, do you want to be friends?" The dove pecked Jaune's shoulder, unafraid of Jaune's fingering inching closer. The connection's complete when it suddenly latched onto Jaune's finger, bonding with the Arc with an invisible force. "I guess that's a yes. You got a name." The dove tilted its head. "I didn't think so, how about I give you one? Hn? How about Noah? That's my grandpa's name. And your feathers kind of reminds me of his white hair."

Noah squawked, sounding very bird-like. It flew off Jaune's finger and landed on his other shoulder, tilting its head a few times before pecking his shoulder once more.

Laughing, Jaune smiled. "I'll take that as a yes. And I don't know why, but you look like a Noah. So it fits." _Squawk_! "No need to be so loud, you're right next to my shoulder." _Squawk_. "That's better." _Tweet_? "How many sounds do you know?" _Whistle_. "You birds and your colorful vocabulary, will it ever end?"

Hoping his new friend was here to stay, at least on his birthday, Jaune allowed the little guy to use his shoulder as a makeshift branch, undeterred by the sudden weight if he gave him a new friend. Sure, a Mourning Dove wasn't exactly a normal type of friend, but his friend list's nonexistent. Beggars couldn't be choosers, besides, he liked the little guy. Best not to push his luck any more than he already had.

Turning around, Jaune's caught-off-guard when Noah flew off his shoulder to continuous fly in a never-ending circle in front him, making bird sounds to gather his attention. He's confused, immensely so. If the bird had just left, he could understand that, but it's doing no such thing. Whatever attention it's seeking from him, it's got it. Now what did Noah want from him?

"What?" Jaune peered around, finding nothing. He asked again. "What is it?"

Hearing Jaune's call, Noah suddenly flew off in a direction that's away from his home and town, low and away from the sky. Jaune didn't know what to think, so he opted to go back inside, figuring the bird finally decided to leave. Of course his actions were downright stopped when Noah suddenly flapped angrily in front of his face, making louder bird noises, permanently halting any progress he's making back inside. The bird then did a quick spin before flying back in the direction it once had, making sure this time to stop on a nearby bush where olives were growing.

Looking between the dove and his house, Jaune sighed tiredly and decided to humor Noah and see what he wanted. In the end, it could all just be in his imagination and maybe all the bird wanted to do was mess with him. Hard to believe, but the world's not a warm place full of happiness and security. Only a fool believed in that.

Walking toward Noah, the bird flew off the branch and remained floating above the ground, at Jaune's waist level. It did a quick circle before venturing deeper into the forest, where Jaune's considering his options, but a bird sound from inside made him reluctantly move his feet forward, if only just a little.

"Where is that dumb bird leading me to?" Given no answer, he followed. For minutes he walked into the forest, mentally recounting each step so he could make it back home. "Seriously, where are you taking me?"

Each step wanted to make him turn back, especially since he's still holding all the things he bought from the vendor. The weight's getting to him, and so was all the walking without pause. He's just about to give up and turn back, but a child's scream grabbed his attention, and Jaune whipped his head toward the direction, suddenly noticing Noah flying not waist level, but high in the sky, circling around a section of the area hidden by trees.

Jaune legs were frozen, unable to move, but the scream's louder this time and whatever fear he had was overcame by his Arc pride. Without anymore hesitation, he's sprinting toward the scream, ignoring desperately the burning coming from his muscles. The branches he barely pushed away hit him on the back, and he's burning with overexertion when he finally pushed through the last bush, spotting the child in trouble almost instantly. And she's not alone. There were a couple of men dressed in white, with a bloody panther drawn on their back, approaching the girl with weapons meant to harm or even kill. Without needing to ask, he knew who they were—The White Fang—terrorist.

One of the two slapped the other on the back of his head. "Hurry up and grab the brat, Adam wants her alive! And be careful! The freak is dangerous!"

"Leave me alone! Go away!" The child screamed. She sobbed and cried. She couldn't be any more than seven. She held onto some makeshift plushy with all her might. Her snowy white hair contrasted the blood on her tiny blouse. Her heavy blue eyes blinked with innocence. Then they land on Jaune and the little dove landing on his shoulder. For some reason, she felt her hope rising when she saw the weaken teen. "Mister! Please make these bad people go away!"

Erasing any chance of a sneak attack, not like Jaune was planning such a thing, the grunts turn around to spot Jaune resting on the side of the tree in his makeshift getup. They took a moment to judge his appearance, glancing between the armor and sword before taking in his skeleton like cheek bones and pale skin. Then they laugh. They laugh long and hard.

The grunt ribbed the guy next to him. "Check it out! This wimp can barely stand! I actually feel bad for the kid. He can barely hold himself up!"

Jaune glared, hating how true their words were. At the same time, his eyes land on the little girl with snowy white hair, begging for Jaune to do something with her large, innocent eyes. The only problem, he didn't know what he _could_ do. Jaune's the last person in Remnant with the strength to fight. He had zero chance, zero hope!

There's nothing, but perhaps he could buy time for her to run.

Jaune didn't know why or how his body managed to produce enough energy to move as fast as it did, but it did. He charged at the White Fang grunts, bringing down Durandal with an ill-practice swing. The grunt he aimed for hardly wasted any energy in bringing up a mace he used as a weapon, whereas the other one using a red sword kicked Jaune away, laughing as he did so. Even with the masks on, Jaune could tell the other one was a female.

"You call that an attack?" she laughed, almost holding her sides. "You poor, delusional human, don't you realize you're in way over your head? Just look at you! Skin and bones, much? Killing you will be a mercy killing, and I don't help human scum. So run along already. And thanks for the laughs. I really needed that."

Getting up, Jaune coughed out blood, only truly realizing how weak his body really was. The cough alone almost brought him down to his knees. He's only standing because he'd stabbed Durandal into the ground, but that gesture almost broke the blade in two. His grass armor had broken partially from the kick to his stomach, and some of it was covered in his blood. Still, he didn't take the out, knowing he would hate himself forever if he allowed these guys to lay a single finger on the frighten child.

Reaching out with the last of his fading strength, Jaune pushed away the tears in her eyes, fully prepared to die to spare this little girl. She had a brighter future. She had hope! Her life wasn't worth nothing. Not like his, not like his. He almost laughed at the irony of doing this on his birthday, almost. Maybe, in a perfect sort of way, this was the miracle his mother was talking about.

He was the miracle for the little girl before him.

Lunging forward, Jaune brought up Durandal from his side, attempting to land any type of slash on the White Fang grunts before him, but his actions were stopped midway with a block by the guy's mace. And before Jaune could even realize what's happening, he's cut in the chest by the female's sword, destroying both his sword and body. Then the mace was brought down upon his head, crashing the wounded teen hard onto the ground, breaking all his armor, splitting his shield, and obliterating the hilt of Durandal.

Still, even with the darkness overcoming him, Jaune managed to look up and plead with the girl. "Go..." he coughed, feeling the coldness entrapping him. "Go... Run! Run now!"

Trapped in her spot, she did no such thing, driven by fear and forlorn hope. Instantly, she overcame both things and shook her head, crying out with tears in her eyes.

"Get up, Mister..." Jaune threw her one last smile before a sword was brought down into his chest, tearing his heart in two. Till the almost bitter end, Jaune remained smiling. And as childish hope went, she yelled out much stronger this time, tears streaming down her eyes. "Mister! Mister! Please don't lose!"

Fading away, Jaune's mind remembered the last moments he spent with his mother, recounting their last conversation with clarity. As the darkness soon began to take him and his senses, her gentle voice cut through it all, like some beacon or lighthouse, filling his mind with happiness in its final moments.

 _Hope never dies..._

 _No matter how much you push it down... it always finds a way to get back up again... stronger than before..._

 _It's the power to say yes... it's unbreakable... unbeatable... undeniable... unquestionable..._

 _As long as even the tiniest of glimmers beats in people's hearts... You can always find a way to do the impossible..._

Jaune's consciousness started to fade little by little. The world around him grew bleaker. His very blood pooled around him, warm to the contrasting cold his body was experiencing. The little girl was curled up by a broken wall, fighting off the White Fang with false courage followed by weaker words. Turns out he even failed at dying a worthwhile death. Such was the Fate of the child with zero hope.

 _Remember... Jaune..._

"Mister!" screamed the seven-year-old, tears leaking down her cheeks. Funny, she never _did_ get his name. And now she's hysterical and broken in two. Only the Pumpkin Pete plushy she's holding supported her as a makeshift defense. "Get up! Get up! Pretty please! You're my only hope!"

 _Don't ever lose hope..._

Him? Her hope? That's funny. Real funny. He never had such a thing before. And now she's calling him _that_ , the very thing that had forsaken him. It's so funny that it hurt to think about. Oddly enough, Jaune silently wished he could be her hope, if only just for a little while. At the very least then, she'd have a chance. Maybe a miracle would occur?

 _And don't worry if you do..._

Possibly. Maybe. Yes?

 _Because you know why? Hope will always manage to find a way to find you..._

For once Jaune Arc hoped a miracle would occur. He's hoping on it.

 _You just got to stop running from it..._

Noah flew over Jaune's mutilated body, peering down at the fallen Arc from the top of a nearby olive tree. It tilted its head before breaking off a chunk of the green branch with its beak, and flew straight down toward Jaune. The dove then glowed a shade of green, glad for Jaune to finally believe in miracles, but most importantly, to believe in hope once more. The dove wouldn't let Jaune down. It's more than just an animal. It's the figment of hope his mother and father entrusted the day he was born. It's a semblance of the threat that tied beliefs and power together.

It's the Semblance of Hope.

Hope was the power to make miracles happen.

Noah's Arc shall become the beacon of hope in the world _drowning_ in despair.

 _A miracle can happen more than once..._

 **Lub-dub**!

Flying above Jaune's body, and alerting both the White Fang and the crying child, Noah flapped its wing above Jaune's body, glowing green as a circular ring of Aura surrounded its body. Soon all of Jaune's broken and dead body, plus blood, began to glow green, alongside his armor and weapon prior to his death, and broke apart to condense around the ring of green Aura. Then the olive branch in Noah's beak broke apart and fluttered around the ring of green Aura, shaping into the Arc's crest, unmistakable and undeniable.

The female grunt backed away, wondering why the kid's body was glowing green and then breaking apart to condense around that damn bird. "What the hell is going on?!"

A bright flash of green illuminated the forest, blinding the witnesses to the sudden light show. Her answer then came a moment later when a body landed down from where the dove had been, kneeling partially on the floor with a sword clutched dangerously in his hand. And Jaune Arc's consciousness reawakened with renewed vigor. A green light shined from his body, breaking him down into nothing before reforming him back into something. Every pore on his body felt alive and for the first time in years, Jaune Arc felt truly alive. Whatever logic he contained pointed to his Semblance, and understandably, that's the only possible conclusion Jaune could come up. Nothing else even came remotely close. And nothing else honestly mattered at the severe moment.

Getting up, Jaune moved on autopilot as the shock of not being dead was still nerving him. He opened his energetic eyes a second later, feeling better than he'd ever had in his natural life. Upon his revival, the Arc moved reflexively, forgetful of the new weight pressed down upon his shoulders. There's this air of power filling his lungs, and his muscles didn't burn with overexertion. Each one of his cells felt alive. Everything just felt damn fantastic!

"H-Hey?! What the hell happened to the punk?"

Glaring fearfully at the once killed human, the White Fang grunts took in Jaune's appearance, drinking in the sudden transformation with both awe and fear.

Standing before them was not some weak boy, but a totally changed man. His broken sword had been repaired magically, seeming more durable and rust-free, a glaring comparison to the piece of scrap from before. The metal gauntlets he had worn were stainless and practically new, shining in the light. That sad green armor of leaves had turned to metal, exposing parts of his abdomen, fearless to damage, and clung to a body that no longer lacked definition. His shield was fully repaired, shining in the gleaming sun, perfectly circular without any indents. And there's an olive wreath around his forehead that's completely made of olive branches and metal. And last but not least, Jaune's face no longer resembled that sickly skeleton from before. The minus of definition on his cheeks had been erased. There's actual meat under there, muscle, pure muscle.

Eternally confused still, Jaune lifted up his armored hands, soaking in the power overflowing through his veins, and best of all, they're not shaking. His hands were remaining completely still, not faltering at all to the metal wrapped around them. In fact, Jaune couldn't even tell if it was just him or if the metal was simply weightless. He then peered over to the shield, impressed by its slick appearance, where even his Arc crescents have suddenly found themselves etched in pure green. And finally he's lifting up Durandal, amazed not a spec of rust was visible. If anything, there's more metal alongside the blade, and the hilt was slightly longer, green with a streak of green following along the blade from the base to the top, ending right at edge.

Lastly, he noticed that his hair was being held up by an olive wreath, pushing some of his hair back and that the damage done to his chest and body had completely healed. Better! His body felt like it's on fire, warm and pumping with untold amounts of adrenaline.

"What the hell!" Stopping his inspection, the confusion left Jaune's eyes as he turned to stare at White Fang grunts. "W-What? What the hell just happen—you're supposed to be dead!"

Didn't she think he knew that? Everyone knew that. He _knew_ that. None of what's happening was making any sense to him. He knew it's not his Aura. He'd never had much to begin with, and even he knew the limitations of damage Aura could reverse. And Jaune carried no Dust, so impossibly so, this had to be his Semblance? Had to be!

Jaune's never managed to figure out what his Semblance was. Could this truly be it?

"You're up! You're up!" It's her again, that little kid with a heart too big for her body since she's able to believe in a guy like him. She's hopping on both her legs, toothy smile aimed directly at the panicked Arc. "All my hope came true! It's a miracle!" Then she's hugging him tightly on his leg, innocent to all the death all around them. "I know you can win! I just know it!"

Jaune blinked? _Hope_? _Miracle_?

The female White Fang grunt stepped forward. "Hey! Shut up, you brat! You're coming with us! And you!" She pointed at Jaune's still comatose appearance. "I don't know how you did what you did, but I do know I'm finishing the job! Prepare to be buried ten feet under!"

Widening his eyes out of instinct, Jaune lacked fears as he held up Forlorn, robbing her hope of any chance of striking him, effectively stopping her attack. He's not sure how he did that entirely. Partially, he thanked practicing with a toy sword, whenever the opportunity had arisen, and he also questioned the possibility of feeling like all her moves were more sluggish than before. Or maybe he's just far faster than before—hard to tell. But what really set his nerves on fire was the fact he's holding her back with ease, hardly wasting any effort in not only stopping her attack, but also pushing her back.

Hope revived; Jaune counted his blessing as a sudden miracle and work of his unknown Semblance, and swiped her blade away, forgetting about what _ifs_ and _whys_ , he's more focused on the here and now. And the here and now was protecting this little girl from being taken by these two White Fang grunts, whatever the reason may be. In the end, he didn't care, because it didn't matter. Nothing good could come from it. All that matters was beating these two. And he's feeling hopeful for the first time in almost a decade.

Standing in front of the child, Jaune held his shield up and sword back, glaring with actual emotion. The olive wreath prevented his hair from getting in his eyes, allowing the Arc to see every movement of the enemy. His green armor bent to the way he moved, acting almost as a second skin, just like the gauntlets and fused headband.

"I don't know what's happening." Jaune said honestly, full of hope. "But stay away from her! Your fight's with me!"

The male Faunus clicked his teeth together, angry behind his mask. He charged at Jaune with his mace raised. "I wouldn't talk so big if I was you! Damn, human!"

Now Jaune knew why he was able to block that woman's attack. They're not moving fast at all. Compared to his newfound strength, they're weak to his might. Weak to his speed! Weak to his Semblance! And they're weak to his power.

On this day, during this very fight, no _miracles_ were coming to save them.

Trusting in his sudden strength, Jaune glared and raised Durandal, flicking away the man's mace before landing an awkward punch to his neck. It's not his most glamorous move, but his skills might as well be rustier than the sword he bought an hour ago. What good was power if Jaune didn't know how to shepherd it? Didn't know how to control or properly wield it? He needed practice. And he needed a lot of it.

Again, a problem he could worry about later.

Flipping his attention toward the woman charging at him with a blade raised, ready to cut his arm up, he barely moved Forlorn in time to intercept her blade, using that small moment to push her back. Before she could recover her bearings, a sudden kick to her stomach sent her flying into a tree, forcing her to cough up blood from the momentum and crash. And when she glanced up a second later, Durandal's pointed down at her, centimeters away from her throat.

"You've lost. Give up. There's no—?!" Jaune's suddenly flung away from a bash to the skull by the other man's mace, sending him crashing back onto the floor. A pool of blood began to build from where his head lay. He's motionless, unconscious from the sudden blow, dying even.

The Faunus gloated, laughing tiredly. "Take that, brat! You're number's up! I don't know how you managed to get up a second time, but don't you know, a miracle only happens once—?!"

Jaune's blood turned into that same shade of green as before, glowing alongside the rest of his body. Just like before, a dove made out of green energy flew out, only this time from out his body, and all of Jaune's Aura centered along the rim of the arc crests forming in midair. The process only lasted a few seconds compared to the dramatic light show from the previous time. Only difference, his body reformed in a standing position, free from injury and damage. His eyes were focused and whatever transpired before seemed to have accomplished nothing in the saddest sense.

Gauging the situation, Jaune glared up, forehead now partially covered in a thin sheet of metal from where the Faunus had struck him, shining in the sun alongside his olive wreath. He's a beacon of hope, completely unscathed by the man's attempts to push him down.

 _A miracle can happen more than once..._

Pointing Durandal at the Faunus, Jaune allowed his eyes to succumb to the briefest moment of curiosity. He felt his Aura almost completely drained, silently figuring out there would be no third miracle, no matter how much he hoped for one if he should fall for a fourth time. That was _if_ his Aura and Semblance were connected as such, but logic and reason point that as the truth. So he saw no reason to question it. All he wondered was how his Semblance worked. But such questions elude him for now, because to be perfectly honest, his attention's captured by the Faunus's proclamation.

"If miracles only happen once, what are they called the second time?"

* * *

 **Author Notes:** This would be my main Semblance story if I ever wrote one, where Jaune Arc literally becomes the symbol of **Hope**. This story was made because I finally hit **1000** followers and favorites for my profile, and **Green** is the color of **Hope**.


	2. Lime

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of RWBY.

* * *

 **Lime**

 **Imyoshi**

The two White Fang grunts didn't have an answer for Jaune's question, either by a lack of courage or sudden loss of voice. And that's perfectly reasonable.

He didn't have one either.

The male soldier charged at him with a hasty swing of his mace. It's both driven by anger and fear, that much was obvious on the Faunus's frown. Jaune should know that more than anyone, it's the same face staring back at him in the bathroom mirror, every morning since he turned ten. And sadly, he didn't blame the man.

Eyes wide, Jaune took a small step back, narrowly dodging the man's attempt to dislodge his head. His movements were weak and slow, effectively throwing himself off-balance. Even with the sudden new addition of power, it mattered not when his skills were practically nonexistent. Power did not equal skill. It couldn't be more obvious than day and night. And his body was trying to compensate the new sensation of strength with little time to adjust. It never had the chance to deal with a normal body or a properly working nervous system.

To put it simply, he just wasn't used to moving this way.

The adrenaline from a minute before had worn off—apparently dying twice would do that to a person—and now he's awkwardly trying to adjust to the situation at hand. It filled him with some dread, one that's filled with false hope, yet not entirely hopeless. He's not beyond the thresholds of hope; simply put he's out of his comfort zone. And it showed more and more by each strike he barely fumbled to avoid, or each time he tried to bring his shield to block a strike, only to dangerously miscalculate the angle and cause a loss of balance to his feet.

A never-ending game of cat and mouse was on their hands, and Jaune's the mouse.

Suddenly, he's backed up against a tree, and leaves ruffled down upon Jaune as he's faced with an incoming strike of the man's mace with nowhere else to go. Bringing up Durandal to block the incoming swing in a desperate fashion, Jaune blinked from the way his arm barely budged from the impact. He's not used to moving so fast, let alone the new strength. His speed. His power. They're all foreign to him. Almost like it's a second language. Any second he's expecting for the sudden burst of power to disappear and rob him of his hope for victory, but his worst nightmares refuse to fester and grow. The miracle of his unforeseen gift was not one he's going to overlook a second time.

Not only that, but a new sensation had overcome him the second the mace came in contact with Durandal. It's a feeling he knew all too well, a feeling of Lament had overcome him, except, strangely enough, it had zero effect on him. Lamentation wasn't upon him, but near him. He's not the one filled with unparalleled dread, not this time. Don't even ask the teen how he could feel emotions of despair, he wouldn't be able to explain it anyways. The poor Faunus he's in a power struggle with was the one _Lamenting_ in his decision and Fate.

And with the way he looked, Jaune saw the emotion take hold of the Faunus.

Poor bastard's getting worse by the second. The way his jaw started to quiver and his lips wobbled reveal of the same face Jaune had seen countless times on his own. Only, it didn't make any sense to Jaune.

It's two-to-one.

The odds were in the Faunus's favor, so why the sudden feeling of _Hopelessness_?

Hearing the telltale sounds of metal scratching against metal, the Arc couldn't help but look down at his sword and wonder if Durandal's the cause of this? Could his sword be possibly filling this man with Lament? Was that even remotely possible? Or could Durandal be doing something else entirely. It's so stupid and insane that he wanted nothing more than to forget about the absurdity of it all and focus on the life-and-death fight, so why did this sense of hope speak otherwise? Jaune really wished he had all the answers, but his attention was then captured by the women intending to strike his prone positioned, a strike meant to kill.

"Ha! Nowhere left to run? Now you're dead!"

Remembering he had a shield, Jaune brought up Forlorn to block the woman's strike, catching her blade before it could pierce his shoulder in a shaky guard. And just for a brief instant, a tiny moment in the heat of battle, Jaune barely registered another strange force, this time it's coming from Forlorn, fixing his arm and eventually his entire body with a warm feeling of safety that's only second to a mother's hold. Almost like some strange and unknown power from Forlorn was filling his body with _Endless Hope_ , while another power from Durandal was filling the man with _Hopelessness_.

Crazy! Right? Just had to be? Hope couldn't be stolen or given. It's just the rambling of a teenager with his life on the line. Random, completely insane thoughts and nothing more.

Getting back to the fight, they're stuck in a gridlock, mace to sword and shield to katana. The tree's the only thing holding Jaune together as he dug his feet into the floor and unearthed his new strength to hold them both back. Suffice to say, the two grunts were getting angrier and more scared by the second. However, on the other end of the spectrum, Jaune's feeling more hopeful by the second. That sensation coming from Forlorn filled him with nothing but faith, whereas the women seemed to be losing it as her hands and weapon begin to lightly shake, but her defiance was all still there. Meanwhile, it seemed the man tangling himself with Durandal had appeared to _Lament_ his decision indefinitely. He's more scared than angry. And his fear escalated the longer he's stuck in a deadlock with Durandal compared to quick slashes and crashes that last less than a second.

A _Lack of Hope_ seemed to have discouraged the man before him.

Frustrated, the woman couldn't help but ask. "Why won't you go down?"

That's a great question.

Pushing them away, Jaune barely had time to react to the man's desperate swing of his mace, making contact with his olive wreath. Surprisingly enough, the strike wasn't as damaging as it had been only moments ago, lacking in either power or no longer having the strength viable to heavily damage his head. Not like before. Not like when he didn't have a single sheet of metal covering the spot where he had struck earlier.

Somehow, Jaune's lack of a response to his attack was the final straw for the poor man, for he suddenly took three steps back before crashing into a nearby tree. Slowly, Jaune swung Durandal, cutting him barely on the arm, but that same feeling from before had intensified immensely the moment he made contact. Now that Lament feeling was impossible to ignore. And judging by the way he fell to the ground, whimpering like a small child, it's possessed him down to the core of his soul, and then some.

He may have given up on hope, but his partner sure hadn't. "What the hell's wrong with you?! Where's your anger at? Stand up, damn it! Stand up!" Her screams did nothing to sooth his grief, his sorrow, his hopelessness. "Get up! What are you waiting for?"

Her answer came in the sound of wailing gibberish. He's not the same man from a few minutes before. That's the sounds of a person who's overcome with absolute sorrow. "We can't win."

Even Jaune could see that man backed up against the tree had _Lost All Hope_. The teenager didn't even want to fight him anymore, seemed kind of sad to do with the way he _Lamented_ before Jaune. It'd be like he's kicking a downed animal. A pointless and useless endeavor for an Arc to follow.

"Coward!" Glaring at the pitiful Faunus, she clicked her teeth together and aimed her weapon at the sympathetic human. "It's like he's lost the will to fight. What did you do to him? Answer me!"

Unsure on how to answer her question, Jaune lifted Durandal to see if it had any special properties, other than being rust free now, but no such luck. It's just a sword. Yet even he knew that's far from the truth. He felt power radiating from the blade. It called to him—beckoned the Arc to reach out for a power that's meant for him and him alone.

Gripping the blade tightly, he aimed it toward the woman, pose to strike at a moment's notice. With a simple shrug of his shoulders, Jaune coughed. "I don't know. I guess I robbed him of his will to fight? I did die twice and come back like some sort of monster-zombie? How should I know? Cut the poor guy some slack."

She didn't like that answer. Charging at Jaune, katana raised, she intended to injure any part of his body. She's specifically aiming for his torso, intent to do any sort of damage, but Jaune's filled with unbridgeable confidence.

Aiming to block her next incoming strike, Forlorn intercepted her katana, deflecting back her best efforts to harm the human. And that's when Jaune felt it. A shift of power between the two fighters was as clear as the day for him. Whatever Forlorn had done, it filled Jaune with a new sense of freedom, a _New Hope_. And sadly, Jaune could see a cloud of depression fall over the women's posture. Brief in exposure, she tried to hide immediately, but Jaune's seeing past those illusions by judging the way she carried herself on the battlefield.

It really was like looking into a mirror. She's _Lost Hope_ in winning this fight.

Forlorn must've stolen away all her hope, that's the only conclusion Jaune could come up with—however deranged it actually sounded when he actually thought it out loud. Crazy or not, what else was there? Durandal must've done something similar to the other man. Whatever's fueling her will to fight wasn't confidence or courage, but a _False Hope_ that couldn't be beaten or brushed away so easily. The same type of hope he lived with the past seventeen years of his miserable life. And it showed forlornly in the way she tried to hurt him in both desperation and anger.

No matter what she did, the White Fang grunt couldn't seem to properly land a blow or even damage Jaune at this point. Everything she's doing was proving to be futile, a lost cause, as if all the hope's been drained out of her and all she's fighting with was a false sense of hope. Her life force itself seemed nonexistent now.

Desperation was clear in her shoulders. The Arc's not even trying to dodge her incoming strikes anymore, simply taking the time to catch and deflect her lackluster and painfully slow swings with his gauntlets. At this point she's just swinging her katana, hoping to land any attack.

She's _Beyond Hope_ now.

Pity, Jaune didn't feel like fighting her anymore, he never truly did in the first place. Probably best to take her to the authorities and let the local law enforcement handle them. He doubted she's going to put up much of a fight now, but he's not going to take any chances, not while his sole reason for doing any of this was hiding in the nearby bush with eyes glazed in amazement and awe.

Flicking away her slow swing with Durandal, Jaune dropped his sword and aimed a crocked fist for the women's face, connecting metal knuckles to cheek with a show of force that toppled the woman to the nearest tree. That alone seemed to finish her. Perhaps he might have pushed a little too much strength behind his fist, now that he's given a few seconds to observe her still stature, because she's out cold and there were cracks around the tree.

 _Whimper_!

Flicking his innocent eyes toward the man shaking like a leaf, Jaune sighed, feeling like somehow he was the bad guy here, even though these guys did try to kidnap a little girl and were basically terrorist in the lightest sense of the word. Nonetheless, knowing that firsthand hardly did anything to settle his stomach. In fact, Jaune's still a little peeved about this guy's comment about him being a wimp.

Approaching him with a sad frown, the man was still shaking in the corner, overcome with grief. He didn't even attempt to avoid Jaune's shield bash to the skull, effectively rendering him unconscious. Good, too, best not have any Grimm attracted to his despair. The Arc's not so sure he had the confidence to fight them. He wasn't even too confident in fighting these two. It's by a stroke of luck he's the one towering over them—a miracle even.

Sighing to himself, he leveled down to remove their masks, but before Jaune could even kneel down, his leg was tackled by a little bundle of roughly fifty pounds of appreciation and cuteness. She's squeezing his leg tight, putting all the effort her little pudgy arms could do into it. She's even humming in happiness, squirming practically in an attempt to seem cute and adorable.

It's working.

"I knew you could do it! I knew it! I knew it! I just knew it!"

He tried to shake her off his leg. "Hey! Hey! Let go, my foot's falling asleep. C'mon, I need that to stand on." She did no such thing, so Jaune sat down on the floor to grin at her. His tall posture barely leveled with her. "Alright, alright you win." He laughed. "No problem, kiddo. Thanks for believing in me. Even I didn't believe in me."

She's more surprised than he was, enough to the point that she's grabbing him by the chest to shake him in childlike wonder. "How could you not? You have a super cool power! You're like a hero!"

"Huh?" Jaune laughed awkwardly, not use to praise. He scratched the side of his cheek, totally unsure how to react to a compliment. Hero? Him? Not even close. "I guess it is a cool power, but I'm no—!"

"What's it called?"

Jaune blinked, dropping both Forlorn and Durandal. "What's what called?"

She pouted in a way that made Jaune feel like he asked a ridiculous question. "Your cool powers! What's it called? C'mon, it's gotta have a name! Everything has a name! Tell me! Tell me!"

He blinked again. What's it _called_? His power? His _Semblance_? How should he know? Jaune didn't even know people named their Semblances. His father sure didn't. He'd just gotten the power. Never mind the ridiculous task of naming it. Never once did that thought come up when he was just fighting for his and her life less than a minute ago.

For a seven-year-old she sure was pushy. Thinking it over, Jaune grabbed Durandal off the floor and held up to the light of sun peeking through the trees. It shined brightly and unmatched, just like his stainless steel gauntlets and newfound charisma.

It was a miracle he survived this ordeal. But it was the hoping for things to turn out alright that really changed the outcome. He never lost hope, even when it all seemed so hopeless. And that's when the miracle had happened, all because he never gave up on hope, the power that could make miracles happen, even more than once. And all Jaune could think about was what his mother had told him about miracles—about hope.

"It's called Hope."

It's a little cliché, but he liked.

"Hope?" she giggled, hiding her smile behind her palms. "That's silly. That's a silly name."

"Maybe it is..." Jaune shared in the fun. He put down his sword and leaned forward, mimicking childlike wonder. "And speaking of names, what's yours?"

It's not that easy. "Uh-uh! You go first!"

He humphed, sitting straighter, "But ladies first..." the girl pouted and Jaune's forced to relent. "Fine, fine! The name's Jaune Arc."

"... That's it?"

What did mean she _that's it_? "Well, what else did you expect me to say? That it rolls off the tongue or something? That the ladies love it? That's just dumb. And no I don't have a middle name." Jaune frowned before poking the little troublemaker in the tummy. "Now, c'mon, spill it. What's your name?"

She showed off a toothy smile that was missing one front tooth. "My first name is Eski! My last name is Kiss!" Jaune waved his hand, waiting for the middle name. Based on her stubborn pout, she hated it. "And my dumb middle name is Mo."

He could see why she hated it. It sounds like a guy's name. But he still found it charming. "I think it's cool. You have a nice name. But don't worry; I'll only call you Eski."

She did a quick hug to his chest before jumping back. "Okay, Ron! Thanks for saving me!"

He frowned. "It's Jaune."

"That's what I said."

Glaring a little at her innocent smile, he sighed and got back up, intent to either drag the two White Fang grunts to the nearest law enforcement, or to find the nearest one and alert them to what happened. However, his plans were cut short when he heard the voices of others nearby. To make matters worse, the words _human_ and _brat_ were mixed into the bunch. Then everything went to hell when the Arc could make out other members of the White Fang closing in from between the vegetation. More grunts from the look of it, but far greater in numbers than the two he just barely beat.

And he did mean _barely_.

Sheathing Durandal away into Forlorn, Jaune quickly scooped up the little girl into his hands, running in the opposite direction from where the voices were coming from.

"It's time to go, Eski! Do me a favor and be quiet. We don't want them hearing us."

Eski grumbled, crossing her tiny arms. "You're the one yelling."

They're out of the forest faster than Jaune could've ever hoped to imagine. The trees soon dwindle away, revealing the hill leading up to his home. There he ran up the hill, hardly out of breath. It's when he reached the top—when they're out of harm's way, away from danger—did the gravity of everything finally fall upon his shoulders. All the fighting, all the running, and all the sudden new strength, it all came back to him like a bad sickness.

Throwing a careful glare back, Jaune silently stared down at the hill he just ventured up. He took the briefest moments to catch his breath, to stare at the muscles lining his forearms and chest. Then he's touching his face, looking for any sign of a boney structure poking through. He couldn't find any unless he purposely pressed down on his skin, and even still that took a _bit_ of effort on his part.

Effort?

A word Jaune knew far too well for someone his age. People grew weak quickly from exerting too much, and others retain weak bodies when not utilizing enough. He was born with a combination of both. And he envied everyone with a bitter jealously that hurt to have.

Touching his skin once more with the cool metal brushing up against his flesh, he smiled. Then he frowned without malice, losing a battle of conflicting emotions brewing in the pit of his soul. A small hiccup built up at the center of his throat, and there's no hope of him being able to hold it down. Then it finally all came together like one big, heated explosion of emotions.

And he cried tears of joy.

"Huh?" Eski blinked when a single tear fell upon her head. She looked up to see her savior and hero crying. He's not even holding back the waterworks. "Hey! What's the matter? Did you stub your toe? It's okay, I cry when I do that, too!"

Jaune put her down and attempted to wipe the tears away with his forearm. It didn't work. "This hill? I just ran up this hill. No. I just ran up this hill while carrying you in my arms."

Eski's completely lost. "It's just a hill, silly."

Her hero laughed with a happy wail. She didn't get it. How could she? It's more than just a silly hill. It's a challenge he never thought he could overcome, an unbreakable, unshakable obstacle that openly mocked him every step of the way. And now—now he beat it. He. Beat. It.

How could he not cry?

However, there's a time and place to cry for joy later. Even if the danger's behind him, it's still out there, near his hometown and he's pretty sure no one in the village knew since there's no panic running amok, yet. And Jaune doubted that the other White Fang members were just going to leave after finding two of their own members beaten in the woods, battered slightly and unconscious. Now's definitely not the time to be crying.

No matter how much he wanted to just fall onto his knees and yell to the sky.

Wiping away the tears with his forearm, Jaune grinned weakly down at the confused tot. "Yea, yea, you're right. It's just a hill. Silly me. What was I thinking, crying?" He laughed in a way that put a smile on her face. "C'mon, we have to warn everybody of the nearby White Fang!"

"Who?"

Breaking it down to kid logic, Jaune pointed back toward the woods. "The bad guys!"

He didn't give her time to unravel the logic, already running to his home to alert his parents, but a sudden urge stopped him in his tracks. He's frozen on the spot, a few feet away from his house, petrified. The moment felt like an eternity, but only lasted about a few seconds at the most. Still, Eski's peering up at her savior, curious to why he had stopped running and decided to stand there, totally spaced out.

"Jaun? What's the matter?"

Coming back, Jaune shook his head and smiled down at Eski, hiding from her the sudden buildup of anxiety in his chest. Poison like, the alignment traveled from the thresholds of his chest and onwards to the rest of his body. The Arc couldn't quite fathom or explain the odd sensation, but he believed he's running out of time. That's what his instincts pointed to.

Time for what?

He logically came to the conclusion of his sudden Semblance. He's hoping that's not the case, but something told him he's run out of miracles. Which meant there's a limit to his power, and he's reached it or was currently reaching it. Either way, time was of the essence!

"Nothing Eski! And my name's Jaune!" Jaune ran to his home's backdoor, throwing it open with little caution. He quickly dropped Eski on the couch, panicking. "Okay, you wait here, I just need to find—!"

 _Whack_!

Eski watched as her hero was brushed aside by a surprise blow from an evil broom. It landed squarely on the side of his head, easily enough bashing him across the room and into a nearby wall. The attacker in question was a blond woman, shaking with fury, Aura ablaze as her eyes set upon her hero's location. She didn't even spare Eski a glance, moving toward the comatose teenager who had his legs up on the wall and head down on the floor.

"Who are you?" Julian Arc growled, getting ready to attack the home invader with the cleaner two-thousand. "And you think you can just barge into people's home and get away with it? Didn't your parents teach you any manners? Well don't worry, I'm on it! They can thank me later!"

Opening his eyes, Jaune sighed. "Ow, that hurt." His eyes went wide from the broom closing in on his unguarded skull. "Mom! It's me, Jaune!"

The broom stopped an inch away from his face. Jaune just laughed awkwardly when a few bristles brushed up against his nose. "Sweetie?" The broom's removed from his line of sight, revealing the confused face of his mother. "Sweetie? Is that really you? You sure sound like my Jaune, but you definitely don't look like him. How can I be sure?"

Jaune fixed himself up, grinning playfully at his distraught mother. "Yup! It's me, mom. Sorry for the scare, but I guess I can't blame you. I do look different. It's kind of a weird story."

Different was right? Weird? Don't even get the matriarch Arc started on that. She's only buying this because he sounded like her son, and, well, he looked like Ignatius did when he was just a teenager. But that only lead to more questions, like what's with his face? What happened to all his sickness? Where were the bones, the lack of definition, everything that's supposed to be wrong with her little boy?

It's all missing.

Broom shaking in hand, Julian took a step a back. "Jaune, honey, w-what happened to you?" Sitting before her was not her son, and yet it was. "Where... where did all _this_ come from?"

It's the first time she'd seen her son smile with such hopefulness in the past seven years. "My Semblance, mom, it's my Semblance. I don't know how it works, but it gave me this new body and even made my armor and weapon better!" He sighed sadly, feeling that inner turmoil of his spreading to lower abdominal. It's honestly starting to burn. "I wish I could tell you more, but I think it has a limit. I have a gut feeling. And I'm almost at it."

Julian heard it all, but she's focusing on the word Semblance like a catchy, but annoying tune. After all this time, her son finally got a Semblance, a power of his own, and it's led to _this_! The feeling to touch her boy's face was impossible to fight, and soon she's dropping the broom to cup his cheeks in absolute wonderment. Each move was not wasted, and soon she's squeezing his skin, attempting to find his bones underneath all the muscle and fat.

The harder she tried, the happier she got.

Before long she's simply holding his face in her hands, unable to look away from Jaune's confused gaze. "You look so handsome, baby. You're a splitting image of your father when he was younger, except for the eyes. You got those from me."

"Mom..." Jaune trailed, feeling embarrassed. It showed with the blush appearing on his cheeks. "You can let go now. We don't really have time for this. There's a reason my Semblance—!"

"Oh hush now. Let me enjoy this." His mother frowned for a split-second before pinching his cheeks in happiness. "Oh! Look at you! I can just eat you up!"

The giggling coming from Eski proved too much for Jaune and he slid away from his mother, "Alright, alright, enough of that!" Jaune sighed and got up from the floor. That queasiness was getting stronger. "Look mom, there's a reason _this_ all happened! I was in a fight!"

 _Gasp_!

His mother reacted like all mothers would, angry and curious, except she's more curious than anything. "Who would dare pick on you... the whole village is sort of... sort of..."

"Afraid of me?" he deadpanned. "I know mom, I know. They think I'm some fragile flower. They think I'll break from the slightest breeze. I get it, trust me. I get it." She's still lost. "It wasn't someone from the town. It was some White Fang members. They're lurking in the woods. I think they're heading for the town."

The information of the potential danger was soaked in, but she pointed to his body first, unsure where to focus on. "Then how did all _this happen_?"

Holding up Forlorn for her to see, Jaune grinned uneasily. "Hehe, well, you see, when they were beating me down, I guess as I was dying, my Semblance kicked in. I'm not too sure on all the details, but the next thing I know, well, ta-da! And it all happened because I was trying to protect Eski over there..." She waved to Jaune's mother. "From the White Fang. And I couldn't just leave her back there."

Hiccuping, she grabbed her son's forearm. "Is it permanent, do you know?"

Jaune sighed and frowned sadly. "Doesn't feel like it. I can already feel myself getting weaker by the second. I don't really know how it works, sorry. This might just be a one-time deal." Before he could realize what's happening, Julian's pulling in her son for a comforting hug. "M-Mom?"

"Don't talk like that..." she ordered. "If it happened once, then it can happen again, you just gotta believe in it. That's how Semblances work, sweetie. Remember, anything's possible with a little bit of hope."

Hope?

Her son blinked, caught-off-guard. That word had been an inspiration on him, a light to the end of a very cold and dark tunnel. Soon a small smile broke upon his face. Then he returned the hug, making sure to give his mom a proper hug for the first time in his entire life. No threats of the crushing of his body, no worries of him having enough strength to return the gesture, or the needed curse to back away from a shortness of breath, none of that trivial nonsense.

Just an honest to Oum hug.

He almost didn't want to leave, the feelings too unparalleled to simply let go, but his strength was waning. That feeling was spreading faster across his body. And truthfully, his body was getting a little sore. The armor's weight was starting to bulk down on him. Whatever adrenaline pushed him forward before was now all gone. Only his Semblance's power was holding him up, and even that was waning to dangerous levels.

Breaking away from the hug, Jaune closed his eyes and locked away the feeling of bitterness into the depths of his soul. He _lamented_ over the loss embrace, cursed his rotten luck for missing out on some of the joys of life, but overall backed away from his mother to glare around the house.

"Where's the rest of the family?"

Julian coughed into her fist, feeling foolish for breaking the surprise. "They're down at the village, getting you a surprise gift for your birthday. I was supposed to distract you until they got back."

"It's your birthday?!"

Jaune glared over to the seven-year-old, strict. "Not now, Eski." Turning back to answer his mother, Jaune grumbled. "They're in trouble. The White Fang is nearby and they have no idea. We need to warn the village before they have a chance to do some serious damage."

Taking a quick step forward, Jaune gasped internally, feeling as if every single one of his nerves were on fire. The feeling quickly vanished as fast as it appeared, but that split-second burn foretold of an imaginary limit he knew was just around the damn corner. Whatever reserves of Aura he previously were being stretched thin.

"Sweetie, are you alright?"

There's no point in lying. "No. I'm running out of time. Let's hurry and warn everyone."

Mother mode kicked in. "Maybe you should stay here? I'll just run down and warn everyone myself?"

Jaune killed the idea. He wanted to go down. He needed to do this. "No, it's alright. We'll both go."

"But—?!"

Jaune slipped on past her with Eski tagging along. His shoulders were hunched down as the little girl grabbed onto the bottom threading of his sweater. A few seconds pass without delay, then, by the sounds of his armor grinding together, Jaune released a tired breath he had been holding. He couldn't even muster up the courage to stare at his mother, suddenly feeling very childish and ten again.

How he hated that age.

"Please... I need to go... I need this." His back remained turned, Durandal out. "I'm tired of being useless. I just want to feel useful for once. I don't want to be a burden anymore. Please—just let me go. Let me be helpful just this once."

"You're not useless!" Eski cried, hugging Jaune's leg. She applied extra, _extra_ pressure. "You're my hero."

Her words fill Jaune with some hope, enough for the staggering hunger building up his body to subside for the time being. It's a pleasant and warmth tingle. It alone brought the Arc down to one knee, bringing him face-to-face with the little sprite of sunshine and winter.

"Thanks... I needed that." He laid a hand on her head. "You have no idea that means to me." Before Jaune could react, she's throwing her arms around his neck, standing on the tips of her tippy toes to completely hug him. "Eski?"

"You'll always be _my_ hero." Extra, extra, _extra_ pressure was applied around his neck. "So stop being dumb."

Jaune's smile was true and he returned the hug with one arm. "Okay, no more being dumb." Releasing her, he stood up, weapon ready. "We need to hurry up and alert the village. Eski, you stay here."

"Aww!" she pouted, arms crossed.

Jaune rolled his eyes and pointed Durandal upstairs. "There are toys upstairs, in my sisters' room; they belong to my sisters Spes and Elpis. Trust me, you'll find it. Go play." The mention of toys was all that was needed to get Eski running upstairs. It's enough for Jaune to roll his eyes a second time. "C'mon, let's go, mom."

Julian's amazed to see her son run out the house; against all the armor he's caring on his shoulders. To imagine that Jaune could've turned out like this, like a splitting image of his father, if only it wasn't for his sickness that made her stomach churn so violently. She'd always been saddened for her child, what mother wouldn't be? The grief alone broke her heart. But she had real hope to hold onto for the first time in years. And she's going to hold on tight this time and never let go.

Following after him, each step he took looked more and more like Ignatius when he was younger, full of spirit and confidence. Not to say her husband's not like that now, but it's the thought that counted. And soon enough they reach the town, turning a few heads to peek at the newcomer dressed in green armor with an olive wreath as a makeshift crown. It's to be expected with such a tight-knit community. Julian couldn't even be allowed time to be proud of her son, having caught sight of the rest of her family exiting out a general store with a crudely wrapped gift, purple with pink dots—obviously the younger Arcs' craftsmanship.

Jaune found his father a second later and ran up to him in a hurry. "Dad!"

Of course Ignatius and the girls were taken back, having no idea who the stranger was, or why he called their father _dad_. What's stranger was that his voice seemed so familiar, albeit stronger in tone compared to a skeleton they knew firsthand. Craziest part was that he kind of looked like an older and stronger version of their weaker brother.

Still, Ignatius was nothing but kind. "I think you might have the wrong impression, lad. I'm not your father. I'm—!"

"You're wrong, Ignatius." Julian cut in, smiling broadly to her confused hubby. "This is your son— _our_ son! Jaune!" Before he could catch his breath, she's taking it away again. "Isn't he so handsome? His Semblance finally came!"

Still stunned, he's forced to ask after glaring hard at the boy. If this was a trick or joke, it wasn't a funny one. "No?"

His wife was quick to answer. "Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!"

Forming fists, the older Arc moved to stand in front of Jaune, peering with everything's he got into Jaune's panicked induce eyes. And by golly did Ignatius recall seeing such eyes every morning for the past seventeen years. Now that he's getting a better look at the man standing before him, there's no other conclusion for him to rest on. It's like looking through a window into the past. The strong jaw, the shiny, healthy blond hair, that worried some smile, it's all there—the true essence of an Arc.

And it did help that his wife vouched for him.

"J-Jaune? Is that _really_ you?"

Jaune shuffled awkwardly, suddenly forgetting about the White Fang threat and feeling awfully silly in the getup he's in. "Uh, hey dad. How's it going?"

Clasping his son's shoulders, Ignatius gripped the hard metal, wanting answers. "H-H-How? What? I mean, just look at you! Just at look you! As healthy as a horse and strong like one, too! How did this happen?!"

Remembering how said situation actually happened, Jaune cut straight to the chase. "Well, dad, long story short, my Semblance must've kicked when I got into this fight with some White Fang members in the forest over a—!"

"Gosh darn it! Your first fight! And I missed it! And you even got your Semblance after all these years!" That's what his old man's focusing on. Not the other stuff. Screw the other stuff. Monty forbid he missed his son's first fight. "Tell me son, did you land a good one-two on the poor—?"

"Dad!" Jaune yelled. "Focus! White Fang! Here! Forest! Bad! Real, _real_ bad!"

Ignatius blinked, absorbing the information before regaining his wits. "Ah, oh yes, of course. I must warn the town's guardsmen and form a search party. Good job, son. I—say, do you want to be part of the search party? I would love to see this Semblance of yours in action."

Jaune would love nothing more, but Fate's got other plans for the blond noodle. That urge had returned with a full force, practically paralyzing him on the spot. He winced out the next words, eyes squinted and smile forced.

"Would love to, dad, but I think my time's up." His breathing got harder to do. Everyone around him noticed it. "Sorry. Maybe next time."

Ignatius was disappointed. The whole family was, but he brushed it away for duty. The safety of everyone was on the line. "Perhaps another time then? You guys stay here. I must hurry and warn everyone. We'll talk more at home." His father almost ran off, but he stayed behind just a tad longer. "Oh, and happy birthday, Jaune."

Jaune sighed, envious of his father. His envy was short-lived when one of his younger sisters tugged on his pants, making sure her finger's pointed to the wreath resting on his head. "Are you really my big brother, because you don't look like him? He looks like a walking skeleton."

Julian shushed her child. "Spes! That's rude to say!"

"But it's true!" she argued with the sake of inhibition-free concern. "Jaune's a skeleton!"

Jaune laughed and patted his little sis on the head. The comment did sting, a lot, but he's still taller than her. Beat that Spes. "Yup squirt! It's me alright. Your big bro!"

She shuffled in place, along with her twin. They're all waiting for him to do something amazing, all his sisters, even the two older ones, but it's Elpis that broke the silence first. Mimicry was her specialty, copying the same motions Spes had done to get his attention, except she's solely focused on the vegetation stuck on his head.

"Can I wear your crown?"

Eyes flowing up, the Arc glared at olive leaves covering parts of his forehead, wondering how his Semblance managed to manifest such a thing anyways. The armor and weapon he could understand—not really, no—but the crown's a whole different thing entirely.

"I think it's called a wreath?" How he knew that word would forever remain a total mystery to him. "But sure, knock yourself out."

The moment Jaune touched the olive wreath, his clock finally hit midnight. It was like all the hope inside of him, all the feeling of power, was stripped violently out of his soul. Whatever fire that burned in Jaune's soul before had suddenly got snuffed out and withered into nothing but ashes and embers. And that's when Jaune noticed all his armor and body starting to turn into a bright glowing green.

Green particles begin to dance along his skin; it felt warm and disheartening at the same time. Like the life was being drained right out of his soul. It was leaving a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, strongly resembling the normal persona he usually pertained to, hopeless and lament. Not even a shell of his former self, because in reality that's who he was, a fragile human.

Just like the first time he transformed, it's over in less than half a minute. The particles' existence fade into nothing, dust to the air. The green glow left his body with a solidify Arc crescent forming above his body, and it started out strong, just like his family's prowess, but shattered a moment later to rain misery upon the boy, fading along with the particles. And finally the glow resided to reveal his skeleton-like figure once more, armor nothing but leaves, shield cracked, and sword rusty and aged. There's tiredness in his pale, blue, hollow eyes, and the olive wreath had broken and fallen to lie beside his feet, away from the hand hoping to grab it. The Arc couldn't even grieve in the loss of his powers thoroughly, quickly overcome with a weight bearing down on his weak body.

Crushed by his own weight, he dropped to his knees, head hanging, barely able to breathe. Durandal and Forlorn have escaped his hold, busy lying forgotten as his fingers dug painfully into the cobblestone beneath his body. There's already sweat forming on his body with his heart racing a mile a minute. Chest pains were scourging at his nerves and his family's trying to reach him with words and hands, but they might as well be a million miles away, because all the male Arc could hear was the beating of his own heartbeat. All he could feel was compression in his chest, a burning, overbearing weight that broke free and onto the stony floor in a thicker than water layer kind of red, iron in taste and life giving in every sense of the word.

It took him a second to realize he coughed up blood—his blood. And just like a string of bad luck, a coughing fit overcame Jaune and he's losing even more strength with each spurt of blood escaping his body. Soon his vision began to blacken, and sure enough that stopped him from throwing his lungs out, but he's burning inside with an acidic like feeling. Honestly, Jaune thought he's about to die.

Then his attention was captured with the sudden appearance of Noah hiding underneath his chin, keeping his chin up. Jaune's far too disoriented to notice the leaves from the olive wreath missing. Hell! He barely registered the dove holding his head up, but the bird's presence did seem to settle his sickened body, if only enough to get Jaune to think and clearly feel the pull of his mother's arms, an attempt to get him back on his feet no less. Something told him they all missed the part where he coughed his soul out. Too bad he wouldn't be able to keep it like that for long.

"Jaune!" Julian cried with a mother's concern. "Are you okay? Jaune? Please say something!" She's not the only one pulling him back up; all his sisters were grabbing a part of his shirt as well. It's when his head staggered after he leaned on her for support, did she notice the blood trailing down his chin. "Jaune! You're bleeding!"

Her son simply wiped the blood off his mouth with a slow streak of his shoulder. Not all of it quite came off, some even got on his makeshift leaf armor, but he made a show of ignoring it by shrugging his shoulders with little movement. He's so tired, and Julian frowned with how light he truly weighed. It broke her heart in two, but her son had always been someone to hate the sympathetic stares of individuals, family included. And to be fair, it must be a major hit to his self-esteem to lose all that power.

To lose the ability to run probably hurt far worse than any Grimm attack.

"I'm fine... mom." He's not. Just the defeated sound of his tone said that. "I guess I just... prolonged the inevitable... for a bit... too long." Great! He had no Aura to regulate his breathing now. Every sentence was a chore to say. "Don't worry... too much."

His family had a hard time taking him seriously with the way he leaned on their mother's shoulder, all defeated and exhausted. They're only pushed to the brink of confusion when the dove on the floor—which none of them knew how it managed to sneak up underneath Jaune's body—flew up to his shoulder like it belonged there. Strangely enough, he didn't swat it away when it perched itself there and pecked at Jaune's leafy armor. It's only when he smiled did they realize he knew the weird bird personally.

Spes beat them all to the punch. "Big brother, who's that?"

Blinking, Jaune sighed in a warm way. When did his bird buddy come back? "This is... Noah. He's my newest friend. And Noah... this is my family." He'd wonder where the bird came from later, for now he's invested at getting back home. "He's a dove."

Twin number two grinned in a teasing way, hiding her smile behind her tiny palms. "Did you name him after grandpa? That's silly!"

Jaune blushed. "No!" Yes. "I just thought... it was a nice... name." They didn't believe him. None of them do. Not even his mother. "Shut up. Let's just... go home."

They're worried for him, it's all so damn clear on all their faces, but he's a beggar at this point. Just like it was normally. So he's at their mercy and call, but his family's nothing if not understanding of his emotions. Which meant it's no surprise when they comply and begin heading home with his sisters picking up Durandal and Forlorn along the way. Judging by the faces they're making, they're trying to piece together how his once previous weapon and shield became rusted and worn-out in such a short period of time. Ironic considering that's their natural form and what they saw beforehand was due to his unknown Semblance.

Anchored to his mother like a lifeless doll, Jaune walked together with her, step-by-step, still feeling deprived of air and power. Noah did nothing but stare ahead, waiting for something that the Arc couldn't fathom or bring himself to care about. His body still hurt like hell. But worst of all, it felt like his pride and hope have been stabbed in the back with a butcher knife. It's not a sensation he could point his finger at, or bring into words, but it just felt like such. As if whatever hope he had before was all gone in a lesser sense of the word. Now that he thought about, he _had_ acted different when his Semblance was active, hadn't he?

Like a more hopeful and optimistic version of himself? Someone who believed victory was possible and miracles weren't limited to a one-time use, a definite one-eighty to his normally bleak outlook on life.

Or at least that's what he recalled when he thought about it, because now he felt like a useless human with nothing going for him. And comparing the two was as easy as light and day. Such a strange string of emotions holding him back.

 _Squawk_!

Turning his head, the Arc blinked at the way Noah titled his head at him, acting very bird-like and human at the same time. There's a sense of longing in those eyes, and something else entirely too unknown for him to grasp. Honestly, he's very surprised that the bird hadn't flown off his shoulder yet, but for that he's more grateful than he thought possible. Just its presence alone made his heart leap, and not in a bad way. And the more he looked at Noah and its oddly emotionless face, the better he began to feel.

It was as if a _New Hope_ to reach for was just within arm's length.

"Hey there... little guy... glad to see you're... still with me." _Squawk_! Jaune winced. He forgot how loud the darn bird was. And he's already suffering a major headache, so having it practically next to his ear proved to be idiotic. Still, he's happy. "I think Eski owes... you a thank you."

 _Squawk_!

His mother's forced to ask since her son's talking to a bird. "Jaune? You know you're talking to a bird, right?"

Jaune didn't say anything, out of breath and all. Noah simply flew off his shoulder and onto hers with an acute curiosity that honestly made her skin crawl. Then the bird pecked her shoulder once before flying back to reoccupy her son's shoulder in a show of loyalty that no wild animal should have. Needless to say, she's done asking questions. More pressing matters were shadowing her concern for a white dove.

Simply put, the White Fang were nearby. Action needed to be taken.

As they run and reach the top of the hill, some of the younger Arcs could see the town's guardsmen taking posts near the edge of the village's border, guns aimed and various weapons drawn. A few random gunshots were heard off in the distance, and the family could see their patriarch lead a group of Huntsmen to wipe or drive away the incoming forces. Some of the younger Arcs want to see the fighting, but Julian usherd her children into their home with a quiet panic.

Of course some were against this, like Jaune's younger sister, Flow—a girl always with some dirt on her face and blue eyes deeper than the big blue. She's pouting with her arms drawn to her sides. "Aw! I want to see some fighting!"

"Maybe next time." Julian answered in a way that meant _probably not_. "C'mon, help me put your brother down onto the couch. Skeleton or not, he's still pretty heavy."

Jaune almost resented that—almost. His pride had been strangled after practically being carried home like a child, but it's impossible for him to stay angry at the warm smile his mother's glowing just for him. Maybe he's just resentful about the loss of his strength. Would make sense to him considering he had the power to run for the first time in his life, and it already had been stripped from him.

Either way, the Arc got no time to relax as his younger sisters were practically jumping onto the couch. They grab onto his body with all the adorableness baby sisters could have, forgoing the afterthought of him being weaker than at least one of them. Somewhere in the background he heard Durandal and Forlorn drop loudly onto the floor, courtesy of his sisters' tact, and Noah's apparently flying over to join the stilled weapons, which none of his family seemed to mind.

Flow latched onto Jaune's shoulder with care. "Now can you tell us what happened? How does your Semblance work? Can you do it again? Huh? Huh? Can you?"

Breathing in a few times, Jaune cracked his neck once before pulling off the rusted gauntlets from his forearms in a slow fashion. He threw them. They didn't travel far, another blow to his new pride, but they manage to get mixed up with Forlorn and Durandal and that's more than enough for him. The green armor was just going to have to stay put. And the small downtime was all he needed to control his words once more, be it slow without Aura to properly regulate his breathing. But everyone would just have to make do.

Resting easy, he swished his head over to Flow, confused to what she's asking for. "I already told you... what happened."

"We want to hear more!"

Jaune grinned in a defeated sort of way. He'd be more than happy to recount the tale of wonder, but alas his breathing handicapped him, just like his body. Such a story would take time. Time he didn't exactly feel like wasting. He wanted to study more on the inner workings of his Semblance—Hope. Recounting a story with a pause every few seconds did not sound enjoyable or productive.

Tiny little footsteps echo in behind the girls, alerting everyone's attention. They move in succession, quickly in their pursuit to move from point A to point B, and before any of them could react, a little girl wearing a snowy white dress with equally snowy white hair that's almost to the floor, a skin complexion that resembled Jaune's pale skin—but healthier—and eyes bluer than the sea was running up to Jaune with a leafy crown that adorably resembled his olive wreath from before. She seemed to have no problem ignoring the eight other people in the room, focus solely on the weakened boy in front of her.

"There you are! Where'd you go? And look what I—?!" The tiny tot paused in her rambling, just now noticing her hero's sickened state. Jaune didn't even bother in trying to hide it. He's too weak. "W-What happened? You look like... you look like your old self again. Where'd your muscles go?! Where's your cool, shiny armor and sword! You look like before! But before was bad! Very, very bad! Go back to normal right now!"

Her hero laughed hollowly, using whatever remaining energy he possessed to sit up and lean forward so he could pat Eski on the head. Oh how much he wished he could. Jaune would love nothing more than to have all that power back. But for now, stopping Eski's springing tears was more important. The little girl had been through a lot. And she's the reason he even got to taste the flavor of normalcy.

There's no way Jaune's going to shatter _her_ hopes and dreams.

Rubbing her hair in an affection way, her hero quickly thought on his feet. "I can't. My powers are... recharging." he lied. He's not sure at all on how his Semblance works. "I can't be... strong all the time. Even we heroes... need a break."

There's hope in her eyes. Jaune could just _feel_ it! Call him crazy, but he just knew he could. And the way she bunched her hands together melted his envious attitude like a fire to ice. "R-Really?"

How's he supposed to let down such an adorable face? "Promise. I'm not down... just yet. I'm just... tired, is all."

She made his day by wiping away her building tears before grabbing her makeshift wreath and placing it upon his weakened head. Apparently, she's not afraid of his skeleton-like appearance, like other children, because she jumped up to hug him around the neck without hesitation. Even if her added weight was crushing him, the Arc held it in with impressive resilience. Doubly, the hug actually began to hurt less and less by the seconds, against logic and reason. It almost felt like he's being filled with sudden strength. Yet he's given no time to ponder over the feeling as it's washed away the moment Eski broke the hug off.

Blinking innocently, she waved to the seven pairs of eyes staring back at her. "Hi! I'm Eski! Who are you?" When Jaune's sisters look to their mother for help, she answered them with a simple nod of the head.

Leaning from behind the couch, an older one of Jaune's sisters poked him on the cheek. "We're dumb-dumb's sisters. And where'd you come from?"

"And how do you know our brother?!" Flow challenged, wrapping a protective hug around Jaune's entire arm.

Eski smiled with stars in her eyes. "Really? You're all his sisters? There's so many of you!" Flow's still waiting. They're all waiting. "You won't believe it! Jaune saved me! There were some really mean people in the woods, and they wanted to take me to some place that's nasty and I didn't want to go. So in comes your brother and they beat him up a bit, but then he turns all green and stuff and beats the bad guys! He saved me! He's my hero!"

This time his mother and sister glare to Jaune for some answers, and he didn't disappoint with the way he laughed. "Yea... those dumb White Fang guys... didn't know what hit them." Though the part where he glowed green was new. Maybe he'd have to focus on that later, but he's more interested in the _why_. "Eski? Why were they... looking for you? I remember they... wanted you specifically. What'd you do... that got them so worked up?"

His companion went silent for a moment, probably loss for words. While she may be able to form complete sentences, she's still a little girl; her colorful vocabulary must be missing a few crayons. Or she could be trying to hide the reason since that little question had managed to shut her up. Needless to say, the Arcs were only more invested now since the White Fang were after this little girl to begin with.

She must still be at a loss for words with the way she rubbed her foot on the floor. "Um, I think they called my condition special."

"Condition?" Julian asked, surprised at the word. "Are you sick, dear? Do you need some water?"

Eski laughed at the mention of the word _water_. It's a short laugh. "No... I think someone called it a... a maid?"

"A maid?" Flow snorted. "That doesn't make any sense! Maids aren't sick!"

"I know that!" Eski yelled with her arms up. "That's why I thought it was dumb! Dumb! Dumb! Dumb! It sounds more like a cold!"

Jaune leaned forward. "A cold? Really? You think... you have a... cold? And why? And why would... they care about... something like that?"

His answer came in the form of a random sneeze—a sneeze that froze part of the couch they were sitting on. The ice entrapped parts of the couch, barely missed Jaune's skin by a hair's length, but a portion of his hair _did_ end up getting frozen in the blast. To them it's out-of-this-world, to the little girl with a runny nose it's nothing special. But her eyes finally do light up in memory.

"Wait! I remember now! They called me something weird! I'm not a maid, but a Maiden!"

* * *

 **Author Notes:** Edited **\- 2/17/2018**


	3. Olive

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of RWBY.

* * *

 **Olive**

 **By: Imyoshi**

A Maiden?

None of the children of the household, Jaune Arc included, understood the implications of what a Maiden was, but Julian Arc's eyes had harden almost immediately upon the sudden reveal. She knew exactly what a Maiden was. Her father and his father before him and so on and so forth spoke tales of woman with magical powers that were titled Maiden. Stories of their grand galore of their feats once bounced off the walls as fairytales for children to sleep to. They were four magical women who possessed the power of the seasons, granted to them by the blessing of some old wizard. And judging by the inclusion of ice, she would bet money that the Winter Maiden's playing with her dress. And that's a hard truth to swallow.

That's _if_ she believed in the fairytale.

Julian had always assumed the tales were laughable, fairytales in the lightest sense of the word. Stories her grandfather and father told her to help her sleep at night. Now she's second guessing herself. Hard not to with her couch completely frozen over by a _sneeze_ , and from a little girl not older than seven no less. Could the legends be honestly true? Could there really be a Maiden playing with her distraught son's hair? Even the power of Aura couldn't manifest itself such a power, at least not in one so young. Semblances and Aura were a bit more complicated that free ice-powers. And that only left more questions than answers.

Questions like _what to do now_?

If what her son was saying turned out to be true? If the White Fang were after this little girl and no one else, and if the tales were actually true, if what Eski revealed was believable, then the situation with the intruders have just escalated beyond regular means. This was no longer a simple raiding from a terrorist group, but a situation more compromising in the grand scheme of things. And the matriarch of the Arc household knew a thing or two about compromising dilemmas.

Julian had to retrieve her father.

Taking a deep breath, she got up and went to retrieve her dad from his mid-day nap. Most of her children were fortunately distracted by the shards of ice that have frozen over on the couch and on her clueless son's hair. She wouldn't be gone for more than a minute; it shouldn't take too long to rouse her father from his nap. And Jaune seemed to have his hands full with trying to figure out what just happened. They wouldn't even notice her leave the room.

Wiping the remnants of ice off his locks, Jaune pinched the shards between the fingers. Eski's looking at him with this innocent smile of hers, too small to be anything but. Her nose had a tiny bit of snot on it, and she wiped it away with her arm, acting like what just happened was normal. And it's not. Not at all!

"Eski? H-How did you... do this?" Jaune wheezed, sliding away from the ice. "And what's a... Maiden?"

She blew her nose and crawled up on the couch, taking a seat beside her hero with her feet barely dangling over the edge of the couch. The emotions spilled across their faces couldn't be further apart. She's sparkling with joy and Jaune's tight frown was filled with skepticism. And her eyes glowed this misty vapor of happiness.

"I don't know! They never told me anything!" she pouted with adorable frustration. "They were real dummies! And they were real meanies. So I tried to run away... and they chased me." Eski hugged Jaune's entire arm. "And then you showed up and kicked their butts!"

Jaune's trying to juggle what Eski said, kind of hard to with the pillar of ice resting right beside his body and her hug cutting off the circulation to his _weak_ arm. He wanted to know why this Maiden business made this little girl the prime target for The White Fang, a terrorist group. He also wanted to know what a Maiden was. But he's trying to find a needle in a haystack here. Eski's a little girl. That little explanation of hers _was_ probably everything she knew about the entire ordeal. And even if she revealed little to nothing, Jaune could kind of see why they wanted her.

No one just made pillars of ice by _sneezing_!

Jean, the oldest of the Arc siblings, rested on the back of the couch and poked Jaune's cheek without regard to personal space. "I still cannot believe our brother here kicked any sort of butt. Just look at him. He's all skin and bones."

That's why Jaune liked his older sister the most—no one tell the younger ones that—because she lacked tact and was upfront with him about anything. There's no hidden personality or walking around eggshells with her. She said what was on her mind and treated him like he wasn't made of _glass bones and paper skin._ It made life at home a bit easier to bear.

Flow bunched up her hands together. "But you saw him earlier! He had like muscles and stuff! Our brother wasn't just a bag of bones!"

Jaune could really feel love in the room.

"What's with all the fuss and yelling about? I can't get any sleep with all the noise."

All sets of eyes focus on the owner of the voice, a tall old man with long white hair that extended all the way from his head to his fluffy beard, like a silver fox. He walked with a cane and wore a pair of plain-brown slacks and a vest that's over a long-sleeved white shirt. He possessed a stature that came with being old and from a warrior oriented family. It reeked with wisdom and power.

Julian trailed behind her father, breath tight as she watched him shuffle to the younglings.

When he noticed the giant shard of ice connected to the couch, Noah blinked once, wondering what kind of tomfoolery had occurred when he was sleeping. To make sense of it all, he _clicked_ his cane down and glared back at his daughter.

"Might I ask why there's an icicle in the middle of the living room?"

Eski wiggled off the couch and ran up to the old man. "It was me! Sorry! I sneezed and _whoosh_! And ta-da! Enough ice for all the lemonade you'll ever need!"

Noah's passed the whole lemonade shtick and stuck on a more important matter. "You _sneezed_ and caused this? What is _this_?" he paused. "And my sweet little apple, who are you?"

She puffed out her cheeks, hands connected to her hips. "I'm Eski! And I hate apples! Now you gotta tell me your name!"

Playing along, the old man kneeled down and smiled at the adorable mass of fury. "Well, pretty little peach, I'm Noah. These whippersnappers grandfather."

"I hate peaches."

Noah grinned. "Fine then, how about Snowflake?" Eski said nothing. "I thought you would like that. Now... would you mind telling me how you did this?" He gestured toward the ice. "It's not every day an old man wakes up from his nap to find his couch covered in ice."

"Do you have mud in your ears? I told you, I sneezed, you old fart."

Noah opened his mouth, but his daughter kneeled down and patted Eski on the head. "She said she's a Maiden, father."

Julian had never seen her father's eyes hardened as strongly before. The weird and frighteningly display of emotion passed as soon as it came, but she felt the atmosphere around her chill below a few degrees. And the matriarch of the Arc family didn't think little Eski had anything to do with it.

Sighing with paranoia, Noah glared around the room. "Where's Ignatius, sweetie?"

"Off with the local Huntsmen to deal with some trouble. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

Nodding to himself, Noah peered back down at the munchkin playing with the hem of her dress, and then the block of ice in the center of the room. Her snowy hair and ocean, deep-blue eyes almost made him believe her a Schnee, but the little girl lacked any sort of tact for that. Not to mention Atlas was more than a stone's throw away from here. And any disappearance of any Schnee certainly would've made headlines by now.

But a Maiden! Here? Of all places? And the Winter Maiden if he settled to believe so. Couldn't be? The Maidens should be much older. There shouldn't be such a young Maiden. And if so, why was she here, so far from any of those blasted Huntsmen Academies or protection? What was she doing in their home?

Wait a minute? Why would his son-in-law need a few local _Huntsmen_ to deal with _some_ trouble? Ignatius should be more than enough to deal with any local Grimm, unless, of course, Grimm weren't the problem at hand? Not to mention it was his only grandson's birthday today. There's no way his son-in-law would skip any of his children's birthdays for something as tedious and trivial as a few Grimm.

Frowning, Noah looked to his daughter again. "What kind of trouble?"

Julian paused, tracing her eyes to Eski and then Jaune. "It's kind of a long story."

Noah grumbled. He heard all he needed and then some. The obvious reason for Ignatius disappearance was staring at him directly in the face with eyes of curiosity only a child could have. Guess it was time to deduce why said child was here. It's not every day a Maiden landed in their lap.

Kneeling down, Noah smiled. "So, Eski, was it? Mind telling an old fart how you found your way into our house?"

Her eyes lit up and she quickly ran across the room to grab Jaune's weakened hand, pulling with _all_ her _might_. Of course the male Arc sighed and got up, unable to say _no_ to her unrivaled eagerness. Even when his muscles screamed at him for moving anymore, Jaune smiled down and followed the little ball of energy. And she soon led him to his grandfather, demanding he plop down by the tugging of his hand.

The minute Jaune sat down, she hugged his head. "Have you met my hero? He saved my life from a bunch of bad guys with his amazing power! He's the best! The greatest."

Noah blinked. Jaune? His grandson was a hero? That's almost more laughable than the Maiden possibility sitting across from him. Just look at him! He's all skin and bones. And even if Noah loved his grandson with all his heart, he knew without a doubt that Jaune didn't have the capabilities to take care of a couple of _bad guys_. The boy could barely hold himself up, very less a sword.

Still, he'd give his grandson the benefit of the doubt, and patiently waited for Jaune to elaborate for an old fart like him. "Is what she saying true, my dear boy?"

Jaune grinned weakly and placed a hand over his fan. "Like mom said, grandpa... it's a long story."

It was the second time Julian watched her father's eyes react in a special way. Unlike sharpening like a hot knife, this time they widened like a balloon. He's more than just stunned, he's speechless beyond measure. It's one thing to hear a child's tale about wonder and excitement; it's another when his depressed grandson backed up said tale.

Rubbing his beard, the old man stared at the supposed Winter Maiden with interest. He had to be absolutely sure that they had a Maiden on their hands and not some little girl with an ice-based Semblance. And the old stories his father told pointed out a key feature all Maiden's possessed.

Glaring, Noah frowned. "My grandson's no hero. And he will never be one."

Eski pouted and ran up to him and glared. "Yes he is! He's a hero!"

"No he's not."

"Are too!"

"Are not."

"Are too!"

"Are not infinity."

Eyes glowed intensely with a face that's impossibly big for her size; Eski shook in place as mist gathered around her tiny feet. The temperature went down a few degrees in the room and ice gathered between her fingers. Her small dress danced from the upsurge of power, and before Noah or Julian could properly defend himself, the little girl yelled out at the top of her lungs with ice spreading across the entire floor in front of her and icicles escaping her mouth.

"Yes! He! Is!"

Grabbing her father by his vest, Julian bounced back and flipped the nearby kitchen table down to defend against the incoming ice and icicles. Mist quickly filled the room and ice soared from over the table. And the temperature in the room dropped more than a few degrees. It was bloody cold!

When both Noah and Julian looked over the end of the table, icy mist surrounded the little girl as her eyes glowed with a misty fire. She had small tears building up in her eyes and a tight frown that's more adorable than frightening. But all Noah was looking at were those glowing eyes of hers.

There's no two ways about it. "I can't believe it... an actual Maiden?" Stumbling around the table, he moved slowly moved toward her, cautious with every step. "My own grandfather told me tales about you lot. And he always said a Maiden's eyes glowed whenever they were furious. But I didn't think it to be true."

The children of the Arc family remained silent, waiting for someone to say anything, and it's was Jaune to gain the courage needed. "Grandpa... what is a... Maiden?"

Catching his breath, Noah stared between Jaune and this little girl, oddly curious to this long story of theirs. He had question. Oh did he have questions. Like why his grandson was wearing a makeshift armor of leafs or how he came in contact with a fairytale person. Then a white dove perched itself on Jaune's head and pecked at his frostbite hair like it belonged there, and everything's thrown out the window.

Moving toward the Maiden, and making sure not to trip on the ice-covered floor, Noah sat down and smiled gently at her adorable, angry face. With the way she had her fists bunched up, it was hard to take her seriously, Maiden or not. And a little _poke_ of his cane to Jaune's forehead regarded a story of its own merit.

"So, grandson of mine, tell me more about this long story of yours? You turned out to be the hero of this little tale?"

Jaune had to sigh when Eski hugged his partially frozen face. "Do you want the long version... or the short one?"

"Keep it short. I don't have all day, boy."

Jaune rolled his eyes, but smiled anyways. "The short version... includes The White Fang... Eski... and my Semblance... all rolled into one."

"He saved my life!" Eski finished, crushing Jaune's head in her hug. "My hero beat the nasty bad guys and saved the day with his ultra-cool power! He had all this muscle and power, but then he turned into this skeleton, but he's still _my_ hero! Mine!"

"Muscles? Power? Jaune's had none of that. He's never had any of that." Noah scoffed, only for one of Jaune's younger sisters to run up with her arms and energy up.

"It's true, grandpa!" Flow wiggled in place before running up to Julian. "Tell grandpa, mom! Tell him it's all true! Jaune did have muscles! And he was strong! We all saw it!"

Julian didn't answer her father verbally, but her smile spoke volumes. Noah had no choice but believe the tale. How could he not? A Maiden—winter by the looks of it—was hugging his grandson's face right in front of him. Could this day possibly get anymore bizarre?

Testing the forces of Lady Luck, the oldest Arc grinned. "Very well, show me this amazing Semblance of yours! Prove it to me! I want to see it with my own eyes."

Jaune coughed, smile weak. "Can't... My Semblance needs Aura... out of Aura... used it all up... fighting The White Fang... members."

Noah frowned. Out of Aura was he? At least that explained the labor breathing. He would've doubted his grandson if it wasn't for the whole family backing him up. Of course now he wanted to know more about these White Fang members lurking about. Terrorism for a hometown as small as theirs couldn't possibly be good. And he had a suspicion they knew what Eski was.

Why else were they trying to capture her?

Standing up, Noah peered around the room. "Where's Ignatius again?"

"He and a few local Huntsmen are dealing with the remaining White Fang members." Julian answered. "They went on ahead to intercept them at the woods."

The old man nodded, now knowing why the town wasn't up in smoke. He trusted Ignatius to be able to break a few White Fang members. It shouldn't be too much trouble for the patriarch Arc. Now that only left the old man to deal with the headache hugging Jaune's face too tightly that it looked like it hurt. But his grandson didn't seem to mind at all.

It was like that hug filled him with determination or hope or something nonchalant along those lines. Something idiotic, he's sure.

Noticing the rusted blade, shield, and gauntlets—never mind the white dove hanging back—he went and grabbed the old gear. Everyone watched him inspect the obvious trash, wondering what his reaction would be. He didn't disappoint, holding the shield and sword in obtuse confusion.

"What are these? Garbage found in the attic?"

Jaune weakly chuckled. "No... that's my sword... Durandal... and shield... Forlorn... I got them today... they're my weapons."

"They're pieces of trash."

Eski ran and kicked the old man in the foot. It didn't hurt. "No! They're amazing! Stop calling them trash! They're not trash! Take it back! Take it back!"

Jaune defended himself on the matter. "My Semblance... changes them... ask my sisters and mom."

Noah didn't have to. They all screamed _yes_ with their body langue. "Now I want to really see this Semblance of yours." But he had more than enough excitement for one day. Perhaps after the younglings slept, they could plan. "But for now, who wants cake? I've been dying to get a slice of my daughter's cooking all morning, and it is your birthday, grandson."

Eski threw her hands up. "Cake! I want cake! Gimmie the cake or feel my wrath!"

Growing to like the little troublemaker, Noah picked her up and headed straight for the kitchen with Eski stuck between his arm and body.

Jaune blinked at the display, turning to his mother with exhaustion. "I forgot it was... my birthday."

They all did.

Having a Winter Maiden sneezing their home into a snowstorm would do that people.

...

A few hours later, Ignatius walked into his home to find his wife's father bouncing some little, snow-haired girl on his leg. She's squealing in enjoyment, clearly happy with the attention Noah's spoiling her with. Not only that, but it's unnaturally cold in his home. Like freezing cold almost! Yet, nothing beat the giant shard of melting ice centered in his living room. That just tied this whole mess together like some sick, elaborate joke.

Shutting the door, he trudged in and sat down on his partially wet couch, waiting for the older Arc to speak his mind. Between the shard of ice and the little girl, Ignatius was more skeptical to the child. He could chalk up the ice to Dust if he needed, but it wasn't every day that he saw some unknown child within his normally well-lit home. And that still didn't trump the entire day's ordeals. Compared to appearance of The White Fang and Jaune's sudden Semblance, this looked relatively normal.

When his father-in-law still refused to start a conversation, Ignatius grumbled. "Do I even have to ask?"

Noah made a face at the child. "We'll talk about it later. I already heard the whole story from Julian and Jaune. But we have far more pressing matters to discuss. Just wait until we put the younglings to bed."

Throwing his head back, Ignatius scanned the room and found no one but Noah and the strange little girl occupying the leaving room. No sign of said younglings or his wife. More importantly, there's no sign of his indifferent son anywhere. And the older Arc wanted to have a word with Jaune. He was hoping to run into his son and see this Semblance of his in action. Plus, the man had to inform his son and wife about the confrontation with The White Fang.

"Where's Julian?"

Noah smiled and placed Eski down. She immediately took off to find Jaune. "She's busying putting the younglings to sleep."

"And my son?"

A _crash_ was heard from Jaune's room. Noah laughed. "Probably trying to control that terror he brought into his house." His smile vanished. "Actually, we need to talk."

Ignatius picked up on his father-in-law's tone. "About what?"

"About Eski... that little girl you just saw run to our son's room." Julian appeared from the doorway. She had dirt on her clothes, most like from trying to put the kids to sleep. "We have a problem, Ignatius. She's not some normal little girl that Jaune saved. She's... she's different."

"She's a Maiden, the Winter Maiden." Noah finished, stretching his hand out toward the icicle in the living room. "The stories were true, Ignatius."

He said nothing. The man simply sat down on the dry side of his drying couch, musing over the words his father-in-law spoke. He remained silent for a bit, seeing the pieces fall into place. " _That_ little girl's a Maiden? How did she even get tied in with us?"

Julian smiled at the sound of another _crash_. "Can you believe our son saved her today? It's no wonder she refuses to leave his sight."

"I guess that explains why The White Fang were after her, or how she got mixed into our family." Ignatius frowned, eyes narrowed. "If they know about her secret, then that means—!"

"That it could spell future trouble..." Julian walked across the room to join him on the couch. "She's not safe. Not when that terrorist group is after her. She'll never be safe." She pouted. "I wonder where her parents are."

Ignatius shrugged. "We could just ask her."

Noah agreed. "That would be the easiest thing to do. They would know what to do." When they heard another _crash_ resonate from Jaune's room, the oldest laughed. "Jaune! Snowflake! Get your keisters over here! Hurry up!"

Eski came running in. Jaune? Not so much. "What is it... grandpa?"

Julian ignored her son and kneeled down to smile at the little snowflake. "Eski, sweetie, where are your parents? You know, mom and dad?"

Her snowflake crumbled and looked down onto her feet. "The bad men... they came into our home and made them go asleep... and they never woke up."

The room grew deathly quiet. Not even a cricket could be heard throughout the house. Death had come and reaped the joy out of the room and left in a hurry. The Arcs were left to pick up the pieces and fix the shattered heart before them.

Jaune sighed and patted Eski on the head. He led her toward the kitchen, smile misplaced. "C'mon... let's go see... if there's any more cake."

When they reached the kitchen, Jaune looked over his shoulder to his folks and grandpa, silently wondering what was going to happen. Eski's too busy pulling open the fridge to notice any of it, mind settled on that chocolate surprise waiting for her inside. And before Ignatius could pacify and reason with his wife, she's already stubborn to a fault.

Julian frowned deeply and shook her head in absolute. "I already know what you're thinking. And no! We can't just send her away or to an orphanage. She's the Winter Maiden for Monty's sake. More bad people could come for her. She's got no one to protect and care for her."

Ignatius dipped his head forward. "What do you want me to do about it? We can't just take her in. Think about the danger! Think about our family!"

"Think about her! And just look at that!" she pointed at her son and the little girl sharing the last piece of cake. Eski's practically stuffing Jaune's face with chocolate, with his smile grand and covered in chocolaty delight. "She's so attached to her _hero_. And I can't remember the last time I saw Jaune so happy."

He tried to find another solution. "Maybe we should tell someone about her?"

Noah grumbled. "And who do you propose we tell? Hey, we have unlimited power. Come take it."

He shrugged. "What about a headmaster at a Huntsmen Academy?"

Noah laughed, but it wasn't filled with joy, but mocking undertone. "You want to tell a blasted headmaster at some darn Huntsmen Academy? You know those are just glorified daycares? They don't teach kids the proper way to fight with all their textbooks and history lessons." He disagreed wholeheartedly. "No! We're Arcs. We don't turn our backs on people in need! And she's too important to take our chances with other people. She'll be safer here than anywhere else."

Ignatius couldn't believe his ears. "What! Can't you see that—?"

"No..." Jaune suddenly interrupted with determination. He walked from the kitchen, looking dreadfully frail in the darkness with his skeleton-like appearance. Perhaps the Grim Reaper hadn't left yet. "You're lucky she's too... busy with cake... to hear you." It's true. Eski's practically devouring the cake with her hands. "But no... we can't send her... out there."

"But she's dangerous to have! She'd be safer—!"

"I won't let you!" he yelled, suddenly glowing with green power. His Aura had apparently just finished recovering in the very nick of time. Talk about a miracle. "If she goes, then I go! Like grandpa said, we're Arcs! And I'm not turning my back on her! If it wasn't for her, I would've never unlocked my Semblance!" Jaune smiled at the chocolate smeared face. "She gave me the greatest birthday gift of all, a chance to be normal. And I'll be damned if someone tries to hurt her. And if something did happen to her, I'll never forgive myself!"

Ignatius narrowed his eyes. He's proud of his son, but he had a family to think about. "And what if someone comes to our home to take her? What then? What will you do?"

The Arc glared. "I'll protect her! And I'll protect my sisters! I'll protect everyone!"

"How?"

Jaune formed a fist. "With my Semblance!"

"You just unlocked it. Your Semblance won't always be there to protect you. You don't even know how to use it."

He _humphed_ and crossed his arms. It's taking a toll on his Aura to speak so quickly and powerfully. "Then I better start practicing." Their argument's stopped when Eski wobbled over to Jaune and pulled on his pants. "Huh? What is it, Eski?"

She rubbed her eyes, drowsiness clear all over her cake covered cheeks. "I'm sleepy."

Jaune smiled at the messy Maiden. "That's because you ate too much. You can go sleep in my room. You know where it is, right?" And she's already gone. Fine by him, he still had to glare at his old man. "First thing in the morning is Semblance training. I will get stronger. Eski's _hoping_ on it."

Jaune had never been one to end an argument. He had always preferred being a wallflower, but today's events had changed him in more ways than one. And the instinct to protect Eski—the girl who looked to him as her hero and gave him hope—was too great to simply ignore and pretend it wasn't there.

Noah smirked at the way Jaune walked out the room. "He'll make a fine Arc yet."

Reaching his room, Jaune found Eski already tucking herself in, hogging the blankets like some tiny blanket thief. There's still chocolate all over her face, and Noah the Dove was resting nearby on his rusted gear, using Durandal's rusted metal as a tiny bench.

Funny, Jaune still didn't exactly know what to make of the little guy.

He personally thought the dove would've already flown away, but it resided nearby him at all times. It could be some part of his Semblance? At least he reasoned such an idea. He had little evidence to assume such a theory. Maybe it would all reveal itself when the time was right. Or it could just be some random dove that decided to crash with the Arc's resident skeleton. In the end, the Arc hardly mined. He liked Noah.

The little dove filled him with hope.

Getting into his bed, he barely laid down before Eski's snuggling up to him, using his shirt as a napkin. "G'night."

Jaune glared. She thought being all so cute and innocent was going to get her out of using his sweater as a napkin? Well, she's absolutely right.

Darn her.

"... Goodnight."

…

The morning couldn't have come at a faster pace for Jaune.

The very instant light shined through his windows, he quietly sat up and detangled himself from the sleeping Maiden, too giddy for the first time in years. He made sure to quietly excuse himself out of the room, collecting his gear with silent affection, but not before Noah landed on his shoulder, confusing the Arc to no end. It's like the dove knew when to act or remain docile.

Weird.

Allowing the little guy to use his shoulder as a twig—which Jaune promptly ignored the irony—he headed toward the kitchen to find his mother already cooking breakfast for the entire family. By the looks of the pile fluffy goodness on a nearby plate, the family was having waffles and pancakes for breakfast. His sisters' personal favorite. He himself was always more of a cereal type of guy.

Milk built strong bones and all that whimsical nonsense.

His presence was made known by Noah _squawking_.

Julian _gasped_ , almost dropping her spatula. "Jaune, honey, don't scare me like that! And what are you doing up already? It's barely seven in the morning."

Jaune grinned as he stole a pancake from the ever growing pile. He took a quick bite as Noah pecked a chunk off for itself. "Gotta start on that Semblance training. I can't let Eski down. I gave my word that I'd protect her."

Julian smiled at her son's devotion, but still. "But why so early? The sun's barely creeping past the hills. And it's cold outside."

He shrugged, looking at Noah for an answer. "What can I say; the early bird gets the worm. Right, Noah?" _Squawk_! "See? He gets it."

Julian wanted to shoot down Jaune's idea for such an early morning training, she really did, but she couldn't recall the last time her son looked so hopeful, and for training no less. Just yesterday her son had been at his rope's end, ready to give up and throw in the towel, but a chance encounter and nothing short of a _miracle_ changed all that. Sure, his body still looked frail and weak, but that's probably the reason he was keen on starting early.

Ruffling up his hair, she hugged him softly. "Fine... just don't push yourself, alright? I worry about you, baby. You know that."

"Yea, yea..." he rolled his eyes, smiling like a fool. But his smile fell when he thought back to how his Semblance worked, or what little he knew about the mechanics. "Actually, would you help me? I don't really know how it works, but I think I need an opponent to get it cooking."

The idea of fighting and possibly hurting her son did not sit well with the matriarch, but her son's looking at her with hope in his eyes. And, well, she certainly wanted him to succeed. Progress required blood and sacrifice; she knew that better than any mother on Remnant. But could she raise her hand against him? He's already so frail and brittle?

Unable to turn her back on his hope, Julian turned off the stove and washed her hands off. "Fine, that should be enough breakfast to settle your sisters' stomachs."

The way Jaune jumped for joy—against his better judgment—made it all worthwhile.

...

Ignatius had a nasty habit of waking up last in the family.

But this time the older Arc had an excuse. Yesterday's events had taken their toll on him. Not to mention fighting White Fang grunts—no matter how weak they were—did strain the body. Being close to an old man would do that to a guy.

Swiping a leftover pancake, the father of eight looked around the almost empty living room, finding both a tarp to absorb yesterday's icicle puddle, and Noah telling stories to Eski about the magical Maidens of the world. She was absorbed well into the tale, like a bee to honey.

Still, the man was interested in finding Jaune. "Where's my son?"

Eski stopped laughing to regard Ignatius's question with the same level of anticipation as him. They're both staring at Noah, waiting for him to lead them to Jaune.

Placing Eski on his shoulders, the oldest Arc motioned for his son-in-law to follow with his cane. "He's outside training... or trying to. Jaune's trying to get this Semblance of his going. Do you know anything about that?"

Ignatius smirked. "All I know is that my son looks like a completely different person when he's using his Semblance. He looks like a respectable warrior of the Arc family."

Noah huffed. "That's what Julian and all the munchkins said. They mentioned that he looked like a younger version of you. I can't wait to see the _miracle_ with my own eyes."

"Why didn't you follow them outside then?"

"Was waiting for you. You know how terrible you are with directions."

Eski giggled and Ignatius glared. "You sure know how to lift the spirits, eh, father-in-law?"

They reach their backyard to find Julian and Jaune squaring off with the kids watching from a distance. Well, the two males wouldn't exactly call it a square-off, more like two people gauging each other's reactions. But it's desperately clear that Jaune's breathing heavily with the weight of his rusted sword, broken shield, and gauntlets holding him down. He could barely stand, sweat painstakingly clear across his face. Whatever Aura Jaune had recovered from the last encounter with his father appeared to be utterly hopeless in this situation.

The poor boy didn't even have the strength to keep himself from shaking like a leaf, contrary to the leafy green armor he wore.

Gritting his teeth, Jaune coughed and attempted to charge at his mother, swinging his rusted blade with a weak and utterly pathetic swing that Julian had caught with her bare hands. She easily flicked back his attempt to bring down the blade with a bending of her fingers, showing no effort being used to push back her only son. And he had actually fallen from the action, tripping on his own two feet like a klutz.

Julian's not even trying.

She's only frowning the entire time, clearly not wanting to address Jaune's supposed need to push himself. But he must've really wanted to tap into his Semblance's power, because he got back up and charged slowly at her again, missing a terrible shield bash with Forlorn. She had responded by pulling the shield out of his hands and tossing it across the shield, before she pushed her son back with a palm to his chest. It wasn't meant to do damage, and Noah narrowed his eyes at the action.

"She's being too soft. From what I heard, his Semblance responded when his life was in actual danger. All this tiptoeing isn't going to accomplish anything. If he's not going to take any damage, then nothing's going to happen."

Ignatius sighed, frowning sadly. "Jaune's our son, of course she's not going to attack him and put him in any actual harm's way. What do you want her to do?"

He glared, poking Ignatius in the stomach with his cane. "I want my daughter to act like an Arc. We're warriors, not farmers. Taking the easy way will accomplish nothing. If our grandson expects to see any results, then she needs to strike him with the intent to harm."

Noah expected Ignatius's gawk. "Are you crazy?! Look at him! He's all skin and bones! There's no way he can tank even a normal strike, very less one delivered that's meant to hurt."

"And yet he's apparently already beaten two White Fang grunts that wanted nothing more than to kill him." Noah retorted with simple facts. "You fear for Jaune's safety, but you forget that Jaune's been dancing at Death's door since he was born. And I have a feeling that the boy's tired of people looking down at him."

The logic's too fine to fault. "Fine then! What do you propose we do? Julian's never going to actively reach out and harm her son. And I'm not going to do it."

Noah _humphed_ and handed the man Eski. "You're both too soft. I'll be the one to engage my grandson and treat him like an actual member of this family. It's the very least I can do for an Arc cursed with a weakened body."

Both Ignatius and Eski blinked when Noah crossed the field and intruded Julian and Jaune's battle. He stopped his daughter's movements by halting her with the tip of his cane. When he stood in front of his grandson, Julian hovered over her father's shoulder and frowned at the way he blocked her from practicing with her son.

"Dad? What are you—?"

"I'll be fighting Jaune from here on out." Noah glared at the exhausted teenager before him, pitying him for the hand Lady Luck dealt him. "Don't expect me to go easy on you because you're a little weak, my boy. I'm going to put you through the grinder."

"A little weak?" Julian yelled with her arms bunched. "Jaune's not just weak, he's—!"

"Finally!" Jaune coughed, shaking in place with Durandal raised. His Aura recovered enough to allow him to speak normally once more. "I was getting sick and tired of no one taking me seriously. I know you won't let me down, grandpa."

Smirking at his grandson's stubbornness, Noah ushered his protest daughter away, but she's having none of that. "No! I know you father! You're brutal with your methods of training! You'll end up—!"

"Hurting him?" he finished, glaring at his daughter. "That's the point, sweetie. Jaune's Semblance's not going to manifest itself if his life's not in danger or if he's not taking serious damage. All this dancing around won't accomplish any results. He needs to be pushed and hurt to get the ball rolling."

Julian opened her mouth to yell, but her son's quietness cut the tension. "Stop it, mom. I'm okay with this. I want this."

Her eyes widened at the way her son glared. It's only attributed further with his skeleton-like appearance and dull eyes. "J-Jaune? Do you know what you're saying?"

He scoffed. Did he know what he was saying? Of course he did. Pushing and light taps weren't going to cover it. His Semblance of Hope wasn't going to respond to such non-threatening attacks. Only by inflicting some impression of pain and could activate the power. At least he assumed that's how his Semblance worked, but he saw no reason for it not to. And he never would know for sure if he kept pussyfooting around the matter.

This Semblance—this hope—was his chance to become normal, if only for a little while.

Jaune wanted nothing more in life than to attain that power once more. How could his mother expect him not try everything to retain the power that allowed him to be normal? What kind of life was that? And he knew he wasn't going to get it if his mother kept treating him like a child with her tunnel vision of safety. He was so tired of being looked down upon. He was tired of being _that_ boy. He was just so tired of being a burden, being useless in a family of renowned warriors.

No longer did he want to be a stranger in his own family!

Lifting Durandal up, Jaune's arms stopped shaking by his resolve and impressive willpower only an Arc had. He refused to answer his mother, knowing she wouldn't budge unless he resolved to the act of fighting. Even if his body screamed at him to stop moving, he ignored the burning sensation traveling up his legs and body. Now's not the time to fold.

"C'mon, gramps, show me what you got."

Impressed by his grandson's resolve, Noah tapped his cane onto the floor and grinned at the Arc firing burning before him. A shame that such a strong devotion was trapped in this muscle deficient body.

"Move along, sweetie. Jaune here is serious."

Fist bunched together, Julian pleaded silently for her son to reconsider, but Jaune didn't pay her any mind. He held Forlorn close to his chest as he charged painstakingly slow at her father, missing a slow slash meant to be a strike. The action led to Jaune running out-of-breath, before Noah uppercut his grandson in the chin with the end of his cane that sent him stumbling back, until he fell flat onto the floor.

The rest of his family _gasped_ at the display of cruelty, but before Julian could stop the fight, Jaune pushed himself up with a small trail of blood crawling down his chin. The yellow headband had cracked and broke apart from the impact. His Aura lost a chunk from the hit. And it took Jaune forever to get back up, but he managed to do so and charge once again at his grandfather, movements linear and pace incredibly slow.

Sidestepping another attempted slash, Noah brought up his cane and crashed it into Jaune's chest, literally knocking the air out of his lungs. He's still holding back, immensely so, but each strike delivered hurt far more than whatever Julian had delivered. But for however weak the move was, it still drew blood from his grandson's lungs and took a decent size chunk of Jaune's very limited Aura reserves.

Above in the trees, a white dove watched the one-sided fight with keen interest, observing every one of Jaune's actions with immense interest. It hung off an olive branch, waiting for the right moment to fly down and save its Arc, but Jaune's life refused to get near the danger zone. And there's a subtle lack of hope radiating from its Arc. Like Jaune had trouble believing in the power of his Semblance.

Missing another swipe of his sword, he walked into Noah's elbow, bruising his nose and face in a field of pain. His feet wobbled in retaliation and the arms holding up Durandal and Forlorn began to falter underneath the weight of metal. But before Jaune could fall to his knees, a fountain of hope washed over him from the sidelines.

"You can do it! I know you can! Go! Go!"

Everyone turned to see Eski cheering her lungs out with her arms thrown up. She's wiggling within Ignatius's arms, unable to remain docile in the heat of battle between the passionate Arcs. The little Maiden didn't care that her hero was bruised and bloody, she still believed in his power to win this fight. And that power was contagious as Jaune's younger sisters cheered alongside her, arms thrown just as high, maybe even higher.

Blinking, he coughed up a bit of blood, straining to stay up from the blow to his chest. "Eski? You still believe I can win?"

"I know you can do it, Jaune!" Jaune's eyes widened a bit. That's the first time Eski ever got his name right. "Show that old fart your amazing power! Go! Go! Go!"

Suddenly, his legs refused to fall. The shaking within his arms stopped completely. And Jaune felt his chest react to the cheering of his younger sisters and his little fan. An invisible force seeped into his body, he could _feel_ it. It's like a blanket, warm and comforting to be surrounded in. And more importantly, it felt safe to be secluded in.

His remaining Aura reacted as well.

His Aura had taken a beating in the few minutes he tried to fight his grandfather, falling to levels that were dangerously close to zero. One more strike was all it needed to drop down his reserves to flat out nothing. But all the cheers coming from those that believed in him made the strange power churn in his soul. It bounced. It flowed. It stretched and compressed. It's like it didn't know exactly how to expand and grant Jaune the power building up inside. As if it needed a way to escape before it could shower him in his Semblance of Hope.

Wait?

A need to escape?

Flashing back to his fight with the White Fang grunts, Jaune distinctly remembered being practically killed. He knew it wasn't some illusion. He died, or at least he almost, plain and simple. That's when his Semblance finally kicked in and saved him. And he figured it couldn't really do that with his grandfather holding back the real fatal blows. After all, power didn't come without sacrifice, or at least that's what his father told him once. And he needed to believe his Semblance would kick in again at the nick of time and preform another miracle.

He had to hope it would!

 _A miracle could happen more than once_.

Noah the Dove titled its head when it felt its Arc believe once more in miracles.

All the cheering was more than enough to motivate him. With a quick twist of his sword, he sucked in his breath and held his rusted shield up, stance weak but will strong. The rusted metal of Durandal chipped in the afternoon glow and Jaune's cracked head guard and gauntlets fractured in several places, but he glowed a decent shade of green in front of his family.

"What are you waiting for?" Jaune mocked. "Stop holding back, old man!"

Fighting words that Noah Arc never thought he would hear from grandson, he accepted Jaune's bold challenge and unsheathed a hidden sword from his cane and lunged straight for him, aim meant to cut across through his sword, shield, and torso.

Time slowed down as Noah entered Jaune's personal space with both Jaune's parent's eyes widening in unrivaled horror. They're too late to move or interfere with the old man's incoming strike, caught-off-guard by his bold and suicidal actions. But Jaune never faltered the closer his grandfather came. He grinned with a weak smile and prayed that a miracle would happen. He was hopeful things would turn out alright.

Lowering his eyelids in content, he prepared for his grandfather's strike, knowing full well he couldn't dodge, protect, or parry such a move. The cut happened a second later, slicing right through Durandal and Forlorn with unbelievable ease. His leaf armor paled in comparison to the sharp steel, and his torso gained a long gash from a diagonal cut that ran deep. The rusted pieces of metal from his sword and shield fell uselessly to the floor.

And a torrent of blood gushed from Jaune's newly formed wound.

"Jaune! Baby!" Julian screamed with bloody murder, instantly racing toward her son. But her feet halt when a green Aura resonated across Jaune's cut up chest. "J-Jaune?"

Her son smiled—not from the pain—but the familiar feeling of power encasing his body. He felt his Aura deplete instantly and closed his eyes as hope engulfed his entire body. Meanwhile, up in the trees, Noah the Dove spread its wings and flew down to the dying Arc, slowly turning into a green ring with the insignia of the Arc crests stuck dead-center.

Green lightning crackled and condensed around Jaune's body, like lightning captured in a bottle, only spreading up to touch the broken halves of Durandal and Forlorn. Then it hit like thunder and blurred in brightness before the Arc family's eyes. All of them, including Eski, had to shield their gaze away from the stunning, but quickly diminishing glow. And when it died, a body lunged out and attempted to strike Noah.

The glow had momentarily blinded the oldest Arc, like the rest of them, but his aged-instinct allowed him to block a sudden incoming strike from a sword's that not over a day old. And when his eyes traveled up to the owner of the blade, he's surprised to see a glare strikingly similar to Ignatius's trademark smirk staring back at him. But it wasn't Ignatius glaring back, it was his grandson.

And Noah had trouble believing it.

Not a speck of bone could be seen on his grandson's face. All Noah saw was lean, mean muscle. No thinness or fatigue. None of that! And that's not all. Not even close!

Confidence! Real confidence!

They said that eyes were windows to the soul; well, the oldest Arc had inkling to believe them. Just look at those eyes! So full of life and confidence that made Jaune's previous eyes pale in comparison. And speaking of paling in comparison, what happened to those trash weapons of his?

That sword Jaune dubbed Durandal was magically repaired, appearing sleek and free from imperfections. Forlorn hung off his hand with the Arc emblem etched in the middle of the circular shield. Gauntlets connected to both shined in the sun's rays. Whatever wound he had sustained from his slash across his chest was all healed, and in its place was a lustered, green armor, with an olive wreath to tie it altogether, replacing the headgear he previously wore.

"Jaune?" Noah gasped, flicking back Durandal with a mildly powerful swing. "Is that... is that really you?"

The Arc in question stopped to look at himself, smiling like a kid in a candy store. His eyes retain a brightness that the skeleton Arc never possessed. He's practically dancing on the spot, laughing with girth that he had lacked prior. Each movement was used to inspect his body.

Feeling confident and full of hope, Jaune dug Durandal into the ground and laughed. "It worked! It really worked! My Semblance really worked!"

Eski squirmed out of Ignatius's arms and ran over to Jaune, hugging his leg in childlike glee. "Yea! You did it! I knew it! I knew it! I just knew it!"

Grinning, he kneeled down and patted the snowy Maiden on the head, all heroic like for his number one fan.

Noah and the rest of the family blinked at the display. This Jaune Arc was a totally different person compared to the bag of bones they're used to it. He's more hopeful and optimistic. Not to say they didn't understand his well-earned joy, it's just weird to see. The power of his strange Semblance must be the underlining cause. Even his voice radiated with happiness.

Jaune smiled and removed his blade. "Let's do this!"

Noah's more than willingly to help his grandson utilize his Semblance to the utmost extent, but it evidently became clear that Jaune lacked true balance. A body couldn't just be given a new equilibrium and be expected to function just fine, _especially_ not Jaune's once brittle bag of bones. At it showed with the way Jaune angled himself on the lawn.

He was like a recovering disabled-human, unable to fully grasp the concept of standing and walking to its fullest extent. Noah had no doubt that Jaune would learn to control and harness his Semblance to the limits of his power, eventually learning to control his movements like any other normal person, but he's at a severe disadvantage for now.

Guess he's going to have to teach him to walk, too. "Well, what are you waiting for? Bring it!"

Grinning and fueled off the cheers of both his sisters and Eski, Jaune charged and attempted a poor excuse of a swing for Noah's shoulder. The old man wasted little energy deflecting the blow with the back of his palm. But Jaune's making up for it by trying to bash his body in with his shield.

 _Trying_ being the key word.

A simple foot planted to the base of the shield took care of that problem.

Without too much effort—he's surprised with how much strength this new power supplied Jaune with—Noah slipped the shield down and then connected a kick to Jaune's torso. The kick was hardly anything, but his grandson still had trouble maintaining his balance from such a kick. And the oldest Arc couldn't help but sigh.

Clearly, power didn't equal skill. Jaune lacked such a thing since his first breath. And now his body's trying to make up for unpracticed movements that had been stripped from him since birth. The difference couldn't be clearer than night and day. Such an example came with Jaune trying to swing Durandal around without any form. The old man had caught the blade easily enough with his own, parrying each strike without needing to focus.

They had their work cut out.

Flicking Durandal back, Noah used Jaune's stunned actions and delivered a strike against his green armor. He had to admit the metal tanked more damage that those useless leafs, but the Arc still managed to cut right through it. Well, most of it, but there's a harsh gash cutting right across the unusual metal.

His grandson tried to retaliate by lunging full force at him, but Noah outstretched his foot out and Jaune slipped and tripped onto the floor. He got up quickly enough, but it's all for naught. The oldest Arc already grabbed his face, stretched his foot out, and quickly brought his grandson down with a tremendous amount of force that dispersed from Jaune's head and caused him to drop both his weapon and shield. Jaune didn't even get a chance to blink, mind more focused on the sword drawn to his neck.

When Jaune _did_ blink, his grandfather's tone left no room for doubt. "Fighting me versus those lesser men isn't the same thing, grandson. I'm much tougher and skilled than any random soldier."

Like he had to tell Jaune that. The Arc had realized that the moment his grandfather tripped him without gauging any type of emotion. All this power was acting useless against this superior Arc's swordplay. However, Noah smiled at the downed Arc, twirling the tip of his blade in amusement.

"Now get up! You wanted to train, right? Best get some practice in before this Semblance of yours runs dry. It's not every day I get to train with my grandson."

Grinning, he got up and grabbed Durandal and Forlorn, filled with limitless hope. Training with his grandfather! This was a dream come true! Who would've thought? Him? Once a skeleton without a hope in the world! Now, by some unknown miracle, he was actually able to train! It was almost too much to take in!

Holding his weapons up, Noah frowned at Jaune's stance and used his cane-blade to flick Jaune's weapons into place. "No! No! You're doing it all wrong. This is the proper stance to use while wielding a blade. And your shield's angled too high. Here, try this..."

Julian watched her father drill basic sword stances into her son's form. It filled her with hope and made her heart stop racing so much. And her son didn't appear to mind at all, smiling throughout the entire exchange with happiness, even if her father did _whack_ him here and there. Eski's just watching the entire ordeal with giddy and shakiness that threatened to break free any moment. And she's not the only one. All of Jaune's sisters were watching with anticipation and awe. It was one thing seeing their brother's transformation yesterday, but it's completely different to see him actually accomplishing miracles he couldn't before.

Julian knew exactly how they felt.

When Noah grabbed the end-blade of Durandal, to move it to a proper angle, he narrowed his eyes as his hand lingered. A simple release made the feeling disappear, but touching and holding the odd metal long enough resurfaced the sensation.

He glared down at Jaune's blade, interested in the unknown metal. "Let me see that weapon of yours. And your shield, too, while you're at it." Tossing him the weapons, he inspected the designs. "Such strange weapons, they almost feel alive."

Jaune knew what he meant. And he only knew that because the moment he tossed them, he felt naked without them. But before he could ponder any further, Durandal and Forlorn broke apart in a green light and flashed back into his hands. The action's a stunning one, robbing him of some of his Aura.

Jaune laughed. "I guess they have a mind of their own."

His grandfather narrowed his glare more, eyes focused on the Forlorn and Durandal. Advance age had allowed Noah to see many things in his life. And Semblances were a fickle bunch. How they worked no one knew, but they were all susceptible to change and held many secrets. Those two weapons of Jaune probably held a secret waiting to be uncovered. And the aged man already knew it had to do with physical touch.

Gripping his cane-blade, he tapped Jaune's shield. "My boy, do me a favor and block this strike. Don't fret; I'll keep it slow."

"Oh? Alright!"

Humming to himself, Noah lifted and then brought his sword down, crashing his steel against Jaune's shield. A silence filled the air. No one dared move. Not while the oldest Arc made such a mean face. Then, to Jaune's confusion, his grandfather grinned and removed his blade.

"That shield of yours is special, Jaune. I don't know what it did, but I don't feel like fighting you as much. It's like I'm missing something."

Jaune stared down at his shield. "Like it drained your Aura or something?"

His grandfather looked away. "No, no, I didn't feel my Aura getting drained. I still have it all. But it's like, uh, this is hard to explain. Ignatius! Come over here and place your hand on the boy's shield!"

Interested as well, Ignatius ran up to his son's shield and calmly placed his hand over his family's insignia. Quickly, like being pulled in from a tide, Ignatius noticed something off the longer he held it. The feeling vanished when he removed his hand or quickly tapped the shield, but when he rested his knuckles on the metal, it filled him with anxiety and bits of despair.

Like a feeling of Hopelessness was slowly overcoming him. "What the? What's going on?"

Noah tapped the shield and rested his palm next to his. "You see what I mean?"

Jaune's father pulled his hand away, clutching it like he had seen some type of ghost. "Well, that's a weird feeling. It felt like it was draining away my..."

"Your will?" his son finished, pulling the shield away from grandfather's hand. "That kinda makes sense. The two White Fang members lost their cool while fighting me. And I didn't really do much... I was actually losing, but things changed the longer we were locked together."

One of his sisters ran up and tugged his jeans, eyes sparkling. "Changed like how?"

He shrugged. "I don't really know. First the guy stuck between my shield and his mace just lost his entire cool and acted really scared of me. It was really weird." He then lifted up Durandal. "And the other one, that got stuck fighting with Durandal, sort of lost the will to fight. I don't really know how to explain it."

"What's there to say?" Eski suddenly yelled, hugging Jaune by the leg. "They both knew they couldn't beat my hero and gave up! They had no hope! None!"

Jaune tried to shake her off his leg. "Eski... that doesn't really make any—?"

"I think she's on to something, boy!" Noah agreed, patting the Maiden thoughtfully on the noggin. "I kind of like the sound of that. No hope! I think your shield absorbs Hope and that sword of yours fills them with Lament. Here, let me grab your weapon..." A sensation of grief traveled into his body the longer he held the blade. And when he let it go, it vanished. "Just as I thought, your sword does fill them with despair."

Eski widened her eyes in wonder. "What's la... la-ma-net?"

He smiled and poked her nose. "Let's just say too much of it is a bad thing. You don't want it or you might not have the will to fight to any longer."

"Really? Then it's a good thing that my hero has none of that icky stuff!"

Humoring her, the Arc stared at Jaune. "I'm positive your weapons have the power to rob opponents of their willpower and fill them with despair. And if I'm right, that's a dangerous power. It could attract Grimm if you're not careful. You're practically stealing their hope."

The younger Arc gasped and peered down at his weapons. "Could such a weapon even exist?"

His grandfather laughed and subtly pointed to Eski. "I've seen many things in my life that didn't make any spec of sense. And we know the Maidens are real. So it's not too farfetched to believe. Unless if you have a better idea?"

Jaune frowned. He didn't really have anything else to fall back on. When he thought about it—no matter how ridiculous it sounded—the power to steal Hope and inflict Lament made sense the more he connected that ideology with the two White Fang members he beat. Why else would they act so strangely during mid-fight? Forlorn and Durandal must've done something to trigger such an event. And his grandfather's explanation sounded not so loony when he considered _that_.

Remembering his mother's words, he looked down at the little girl's life he had saved.

Hope was the power to make miracles happen.

Eski had hoped in him to save her. A miracle had resulted from her throwing her faith into him. And here they were, safe from any danger. If Hope was the power to make Miracles happen, then did that mean Jaune's Semblance granted him the power to create Miracles by either stealing his opponent's Hope or by someone giving him theirs? Could he absorb hope from others?

Noah tapped him on the shoulder. "Ready to get back to training, Jaune? You have a long way to go before you're a real threat to anyone, and the only way we'll know for sure how your Semblance works is by practicing it. Or are you already ready to call it quits for the day?"

Jaune met the taunt with a taunt of his own. "I'm not the old man here! Maybe you're the one getting tired?"

"Yea! Go, Jaune! Beat him up! You can do it!"

Jaune laughed and got into position. He practically felt Eski's words of encouragement bask him in an afterglow of power and determination! Details like the inner-mechanics on how his Semblance worked could be kinked out later. For now he needed to train and work on his swordplay, because power didn't equal skill, and he needed an endless amount to protect Eski from the bad guys.

She's hoping on it.

* * *

 **Author Notes:** So apparently Jaune's somewhat like **All Might** in this story? I did not correlate his skeleton-like features with that of **All Might's** , that's all coincidental and funny at the same.


End file.
